As Summers Die
by Resa Aureus
Summary: Due to Lucius's incarceration following the War, Draco hires Hermione Granger to sort through the family library and to collect every dangerous and Dark text being housed there. But one book, once opened, changes Hermione's life forever. Monday updates.
1. The Windstorm

A/N. So I promised a while back that I'd write a full-length Hermione/Lucius time travel story. Obviously, I've kind of really made myself comfortable in the realm of time travel, and this will probably be my last story with that theme. It will be short, ten chapters maximum, and five chapters minimum I think.

It was inspired by three very famous stories, from which I pulled certain elements. Those being _Beauty & the Beast_, _Jane Eyre, _and _Through the Looking Glass_. I own none of those literary works, nor do I own _Harry Potter_.

This story is complete, all written on my computer - but I will not be uploading all at once (though I'd love to). It will be uploaded once a week, on Mondays. So next Monday, you'll get another chapter. There.

Well. Here goes nothing.

...~oOo~...

Chapter One: The Windstorm

It was strange, being back in Malfoy Manor. The last memory Hermione had was of Bellatrix hanging over her cackling while Hermione writhed in agony and had her arm carved into with a cursed blade. It was not a place she'd ever planned to revisit, but there she was, and her skin crawled as she walked through the vast, ornate foyer.

She hated everything about the Manor. Everything inside it, the people who lived there, and what it ultimately stood for. Blood supremacy. Enslavement. Prejudice. Hate.

But the threat of it was mostly gone. The war was over. Hermione was free.

So why did her stomach still lurch when she even thought of the Manor?

Beside her, a throat cleared. Hermione turned to find Draco Malfoy, current owner of the mansion that haunted Hermione's nightmares. Draco said nothing, only nodded and proceeded to lead her through the house.

It was supposed to be a peace agreement. Draco had been acquitted, Narcissa too, while Lucius was sentenced to Azkaban. There was a warped justice to it all, but Hermione was trying not to hold a judge. Narcissa Malfoy was an integral part in Voldemort's defeat, and Hermione wanted to show that she deeply appreciated it. So she had agreed to do Draco the favor of organizing the Mafloys' library.

The library housed some of the most Dark, evil tomes and documents in wizarding history. It had been a hiding place for some of the Dark Lord's most valuable and soul-blackening texts. It had been where Lucius fell in love with the Dark Arts. It was the embodiment of the phrase "books hold great power". Opening the cover of the wrong book could mean instant death.

Narcissa refused to touch any part of the house that held traces of her husband's involvement as a Death Eater, and Draco... well, as always, Draco was just too damned afraid. So, through Potter, Draco had contacted Hermione - famously and expert with literature.

Draco led Hermione to two rather large black doors with intricate silver designs, creating runes in their swirling patterns. This room was protected with a great deal of magic, right down to the metal that made up the door and surely the bones of the walls.

From his pocket, Draco drew a ring of about five keys. He selected an especially old-looking one, rusted around the handle. It was probably as old as the Malfoy name itself. He inserted it into the door and twisted with a small grunt of effort. The tumblers obeyed and Draco opened one of the heavy doors.

It wasn't the size of the library that frightened Hermione most - though it was rather large - but the state in which it was kept. Books haphazardly stacked, placed in incorrect sections, notes stuffed between pages and parchment falling to the floor. She saw three texts immediately that needed repair, and she was happy to provide it.

It was definitely a project. A profound sadness swelled from Hermione's stomach at the ill treatment of such sacred objects, but with it came determination.

"There's a desk near the back window," Draco reported, sounding tired and withdrawn. "If you need a workspace. If you see anything you like, by all means take it. My father won't be missing it." He paused. "Call on an elf if you get hungry."

Hermione nodded numbly, not even bothering to protest against the use of house-elves. She was too busy making a mental game plan for the library. To start by section or by shelf?

"And if you find anything... particularly dangerous... well, there is a fireplace waiting for it," Draco said dryly.

Hermione cringed at the thought of destroying a book, but reminded herself that some books were better off never written. The image of a leather journal with a fnag stuck through flashed through her mind and she shivered. Certainly, some books just needed to die.

The last thing Draco said before departing was, "Good luck."

Hermione sighed and made a decision. She would start by section.

...~oOo~...

Hermione's system was easy enough. She started in the back right corner and looked through the titles to find a general subject and collected all the books on that subject, separated them into sub-categories, and alphabetized them before re-shelving them. She'd take the books not belonging to the top and levitated them behind her as she went on to the next section and repeated the process.

By lunch, she had tackled the entirety of Light charms and half of Potions. Any Light magic was easy enough to get through because there wasn't much of it. Potions, however, is such a vast subject matter that she wouldn't doubt half the library to end up being dedicated to it.

A house-elf came trotting with at exactly 1:00 pm with a tray of lunch things. Tea, sandwiches, lemonade, salad, and an apple, all prettily decorated with a little vase with a flower in it.

"Zippy brings lunch for Miss," the elf said, his floppy ears perky. "Where would Miss like to take her lunch?"

"The desk would be fine, thank you," Hermione said, giving Zippy a smile and following him. "I appreciate it very much, Zippy."

"Zippy is happy to serve, Miss," Zippy said with a bow. "Zippy will leave the Miss to her lunch."

Hermione ate and worked at the same time. She tried her very hardest not to get any food smudges, because she learned that some of the books had quite the temper. One of them, much like her Magical Beasts textbook in school, had teeth and took a nice chomp out of her hand. Another opened up and from it came pouring out large Black Widow spiders. Some of the books she knew not to directly touch, for they could inflict terrible curses.

And most of all, Hermione struggled to follow the biggest rule. Do Not Read.

It was hard for a girl as curious and information-hungry as Hermione. There was a world waiting to be discovered and all it took was the flip of a page.

But no. Hermione could not. She was a good witch, not Dark.

It took all of her will, but she trudged on without Reading.

It was about six o'clock in the evening when Hermione came to the inevitable conclusion that the library would take more than one day for sorting.

About to call it quits for the day, Hermione was pulling on her cardigan when she saw a book among her piles that she hadn't seen before. It was leather-bound with gold etchings in the cover. The edges of the pages glinted in a matching gold, reminding Hermione faintly of a Bible. It was no Bible, though.

After deeming it safe to touch with a few flicks of her wand, Hermione reached out and lifted it into her hands, weighing it carefully. It was curiously light, even for a book as lean as this one. There was no words on the cover of binding, just markings like on the library door, but... different, somehow.

The book had no teeth and did not burn to the touch. No poison seeped from its pages and it had no mental or emotional control over the holder. It was very simple in comparison to what she'd seen that day.

With a deep breath, Hermione slowly pulled open the cover.

The library became a window tunnel, but it wasn't billowing out from the book, but gales of wind came from the walls, whipping through the shelves violently. Books were lifted by the force of the wind, some toppled off their shelves, destroying all of Hermione's work so far. But she didn't even have time to worry about that. Her eyes grew huge with horror and she dropped the leather book, sprinting for the door.

Hermione yanked on the handles, but they didn't budge. Her hair was lashing across her face, obstructing her vision, her t-shirt rippling as the blows threatened to knock her off her feet.

She banged on the doors, yelling, "HELP! DRACO! NARCISSA! PLEASE, HELP!"

Gripping the doorknob as an anchor, Hermione turned around and faced the library once more and, if it was possible, her eyes got even bigger at what she saw.

The wind wasn't just knocking off books and throwing them around - it was replacing them. Moving them into different spots. Re-shelving, essentially. A spurt of anger ran through her, like the windstorm had been unsatisfied with her job so far.

But the wind picked up and the desk started moving and she screamed for help a few more times before...

It all abruptly stopped.

Hermione's heart banged like a drum, her hair still a mess, as she braced herself for anything else about to happen. She waited for a full, fear-stricken minute before allowing her hand to relax and to lean heavily against the door. She let out a breath of relief. Rubbing a hand down her face, she reached out to try the doorknob once more.

This time, the door opened. Looking around suspiciously, and a little fearfully, Hermione dug into her pocket and drew out her wand to hold at her side. Something was wrong, she could feel it.

"Hello?" she called out hesitantly. "Draco?"

She waited for ten seconds. There was no answer.

"Strange," she murmured to herself. Something strange was happening.

Then there was the ominous click of heels coming towards her in the corridor. She knew that footfall anywhere and turned, waiting to find Narcissa, hair drawn up into a bun, wearing something conservative but feminine, in those spiky shoes.

This was not who came forward though. Or rather, it wasn't the Narcissa she was expecting.

Narcissa's blonde hair was wavy around her shoulders, her lips painted red, and she was wearing a dress that showed a bit more skin than Hermione was used to seeing on the woman. Her heels were even higher, with a vintage ankle clasp. Her nails were long and matched her mouth and gone was every wrinkle on her face. Her blue eyes still pierced the soul, though.

"Who are you?" Narcissa demanded in that cold, clear tone of hers that demanded respect.

"It's... Hermione, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione answered slowly.

With a calculating gaze, Narcissa asked, "Are you here for the job?"

Hermione let out a breath of relief. So she did know why she was here. "Yes, the libr -"

"Follow me, and step quickly," Narcissa said, cutting through her sentence like a blade. She spun on her heel and strode down the corridor proudly, expecting Hermione to follow. "You're the first to answer the ad and I promise that will not go overlooked during your interview. I hope you like lamb."

Head spinning, Hermione murmured, "Er..."

"I'm sure you understand that the importance of the job cannot be overstated," Narcissa went on, walking Hermione down the staircase. "House-elves cannot be relied on for responsibilities such as this, and while welcoming a stranger into my home would not be my first choice, it is the price a mother must for her son."

"What about Draco?" Hermione said, her brows furrowed. A headache was forming between her eyes and it throbbed like a heartbeat.

"You did your research, good," Narcissa said, her voice humming with quiet approval. "Yes, my son's name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, the heir to the Malfoy fortune, and I will go through great lengths that he gets the attention and education he needs."

None of this was making any discernible sense. The pain in her head was mounting rather quickly.

Narcissa pushed open pair of doors that reminded Hermione slightly of the library doors and revealed it to be the dining room. A cold feeling clawed down her spine. But that was nothing compared to seeing who sat at the table.

The man, at first, Hermione thought was Draco, but it took a second to realize she was wrong. This man's blonde hair was slightly longer, just covering his ears, and his features were... more defined, more aristocratic, strangely enough. And maybe he was taller - Hermione couldn't tell, for he was sitting down.

And beside him was a blonde baby in a high-chair.

"This is my husband, Lucius Malfoy, and my son, Draco," Narcissa said with a hint of pride, walking forward and not noticing that Hermione had stopped moving altogether in the doorway.

Hermione could have sworn Lucius had started speaking, but she couldn't be sure, because in the next three seconds, Hermione fainted.

...~oOo~...

A/N2. So there's the first chapter. With this story being so short, I might not be doing my usual Challenges, but we'll see.

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	2. The Governess

A/N. Alrighty, I'm trying something new. This story is completely finished. Done. Finite. I have written every chapter to it already and I will be posting once a week. I've never done this before, so hopefully it ends well.

Here it is, people! I am very happy about the responses the first chapter got! I hope all 21 of you will review again, and then some! As always, thank you for reading, you amazing readers!

...~oOo~...

Chapter Two: The Governess

The pain between Hermione's eyes was gone. However, it was replaced by a new pain on the back of her head. It was more of a surface pain, and felt a little wet. That's when she realized she'd bumped her head.

Because she'd fainted. It all came back to her in a rush. Young Narcissa, short-haired Lucius, Baby Draco... She'd basically fallen down the rabbit hole and woke up in a world of madness. Feeling a relief that she'd fainted, Hermione concluded that she must have hit her head, or perhaps a book fell and hit her while she was in the library, and all of that had been a nasty dream.

"Miss?"

Hermione's eyes flew open at the sound of the tiny, gravelly voice. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, blinking and clearing her sight. She turned her head a little to see the source of the voice.

"Oh, Zippy, thank goodness," Hermione breathed, wiggling herself up into a sitting position. "I've had the strangest dream, you won't believe it."

One of Zippy's ears flopped downward, the elf-ear version of raising an eyebrow. "How does Miss know Zippy's name?"

"You... you brought me lunch..." Hermione said, brow furrowed. Sitting up sent a rush of her blood upward and downward too quickly, making black spots float in her version. She blinked some more.

"Zippy does not recall Miss for lunch..." Zippy said hesitantly. "Zippy will fetch Mistress Malfoy, tell her Miss is awake."

Hermione was about to open her mouth to catch the elf, but instead groaned in pain. The head rush was overbearing. She'd really knocked her head. Touching the back of her head, she felt the bandage and stuck her finger under it. Whatever the elf had put on the wound, it was almost completely healed. She began to unwrap the gauze when the door opened and Narcissa walked in.

Young Narcissa.

God, Hermione thought, rubbing her forehead. When would this nightmare end?

"You certainly know how to make an entrance, I will grant you that," Narcissa said, one of her perfectly sharp eyebrow raised in scrutiny.

From right behind her came a taller, most imposing presence. Hermione continued to mentally dub him as Short-hairted Lucius.

"Hermione Granger," Lucius stated in that deep, smooth drawl of his. "That's what the volunteer ID for St. Mungo's in your pocket said your name was. Is this true?"

"Yes..." Hermione said, but her voice was shaking.

"How old are you, Miss Granger?" Lucius inquired.

"Eighteen..."

"Perfect. Blood status?"

"Lucius," Narcissa said, a warning in her tone. "This is not a political matter."

"Blood status?" Lucius pressed further, ignoring his wife.

"Er... half-blood," Hermione lied quietly. She had no clue where she was or what happened, but one thing she knew for sure. If the Malfoys had no memory of her, and if she was in the era that she thought she was, she did not want to be caught in Malfoy Manor as a muggle-born.

Lucius paused for a moment, taking a drink from his tumbler. It was half-filled with an amber liquid. "Good enough," he said, willy-nilly. (Though she doubted Lucius Malfoy would consider anything involving himself to be willy nor nilly). "You're hired. Conveniently enough, you're in your bedroom already, so... make yourself cozy, I suppose." And he strode out.

Narcissa's eyes were huge, anger glinting in them dangerously. "Excuse me," she said politely, following her husband out, throwing the door shut behind her. But she spoke loud enough in the hall for Hermione to hear her anyway. "What are you thinking, hiring her? We don't know her!"

"Well, that's not exactly true," Lucius said back, her voice slow and casual. "Her name is Hermione Granger, she is eighteen, a half-blood, and volunteers at St. Mungo's. Sounds qualified enough for me."

"This is our son's welfare at stake!" Narcissa snapped. "You are putting him in danger by allowing that girl to take care of him! He needs someone with credentials, a clean record at the Ministry, pure bloodlines, references -"

"In case you've forgotten, Narcissa, my name isn't the most trusted in society right now," Lucius said, his voice sharpening slightly. "My acquittal left a lot of people unhappy. Our ad for a governess has been in the Prophet for months with no replies. Well, now we have one. We will monitor her accordingly, but we cannot afford to be _picky_. Now, give our new tenant a tour, for Merlin's sake."

His heavier footfalls retreated and there was a long minute of silence before the door was flung open once more. Narcissa looked frustrated, but kept a cool exterior with some obvious effort. "I apologize for my husband's abruptness. I assure you he will be more of a gentleman in the future." She cleared her throat lightly. "Now, if you will join me for a tour. This is, after all, your home from now on."

And that was how Hermione accidentally became Draco Malfoy's governess.

...~oOo~...

Days passed. And then a full week. Then almost a month Hermione was doing a good job of keeping up the charade, she thought. Her salary was quite sizable, so she was soon able to buy a new wardrobe, along with materials for her job. Since Draco Malfoy, at this point in the universe, was two, Hermione was less of a governess and more of a nanny.

She had notebooks with mealtimes and time for play and times for lessons and times for walks. At first, it was beyond weird caring for a little boy that looked so much like her childhood bully, but she kept telling herself that this was a different boy. A nasty-tempered and stubborn boy, yes, but a boy deserving of unprejudiced affection nonetheless.

The first week was the hardest. Draco refused to cooperate with her on any level. He still spoke no words, no sentences, but he sure did know how to say, "No!" It was the only word he ever vocalized. Hermione had a growing feeling that he was capable of saying words, he just chose not to. After all, her understood her just fine, pointed at things in books, and knew how to communicate his wants and needs wordlessly.

It reminded Hermione of one of her cousins, Christopher. Christopher refused to speak until he was nearly three. The problem was, he was a the youngest of four older children, who attended to his every need and spoke for him. He had no need to communicate, because everyone else was doing it for him.

So, oftentimes, when she knew it was almost time for lunch and they were in the park for a morning stroll, she'd ask Draco, "What do you want?" Most of the time he'd stare blankly back at her, and start getting fussy. She'd ask again and again until he was jumping angrily in the stroller and motioning at his mouth. At least he was making it clear he was hungry.

Hermione woke up one morning and looked at her calendar. A month. An entire month, living at Malfoy Manor. Dragging her hand down her face and pushing her hair out of her face, the one-month mark was a wake-up call. She couldn't do this forever. She needed to find out how this happened and why.

On her first night in Malfoy Manor, Hermione had crept out of her bed and made her way to the library. It was locked tight. She'd slipped the library into conversation a number of times with Narcissa, but she usually just said, "Any books that you need for Draco can be bought. There is nothing for him in there." Any conversation with Lucius Malfoy at all ended with him topping off his glass of brandy and stalking moodily out of the room.

Lucius drank a lot. He seemed to be a mellow drunk, but generally intolerant of company. He retreated into his study after every meal and spent most of his day there. Sometimes, Hermione would hear two voices in there, deep male ones, and suspected he had a visitor, but never knew who. She made it a point to keep out of Lucius's business.

Hermione reached out to her calendar, swiped a big X through the box of the day and started getting up. Draco was an early-riser and she usually tried to get up before him because if she didn't, he'd go off to bother his parents, and she would usually get a disapproving scowl from both of them for it.

And some mornings were like this one.

Hermione had just swung her legs out of bed when her door creaked open. Squinting into the light now pouring into her room, she expected Narcissa and instead got a little boy climbing onto her bed.

Draco was a very handsome little boy with curly blonde locks, soft as down, and big grey eyes that shimmered with silver. He had a dimple in his left cheek and tiny hands. Draco hefted himself with great effort onto her mattress and dropped himself into her lap. He was wearing a blue-striped nightshirt and a nappy. His curls stuck every which way and he looked ready to start the day.

"Come on," Hermione said with a grunt, standing up and lifting him with her. "Let's get you dressed so we can get you to breakfast."

She knew she couldn't put off changing his nappy, so she strolled out into the hall in her pajamas, which were a pair of Snitch-patterned shorts with a drawstring and a camisole. It was the most naked she'd been outside of her bedroom, and never before had she been without shoes, but she knew her duties.

Hermione was halfway down the corridor to Draco's nursery when she heard a throat being cleared behind her. She gave a little jump and turned around to find Lucius Malfoy. He was already dressed, in a white tailored shirt, trousers, and leather shoes. He was unshaven, though, a blonde scruff lining his chin and upper-lip.

His gaze was scrutinizing and not entirely pleasant. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Hermione returned, readjusting Draco on her hip. Lucius usually went out of his way to avoid talking to her, so the fact he was paying any attention to her at all was out of the ordinary.

"How are you liking your stay here?" he asked, in the way a host would ask a guest.

Brows crinkling a little, Hermione said, "It's lovely. I am... enjoying the work."

"Good," he answered slowly. "Did you play Quidditch?"

"Huh?" Hermione said.

"Your shorts," he said, looking at her thighs pointedly.

"Oh," Hermione said, realizing. "No, I did not. A friend of mine did, though."

There was a long, awkward pause.

"My wife says I should be kinder to you," he said out of nowhere. "That is what I am attempting to do. Be... _kinder_." His said the word with distaste.

"I appreciate it," Hermione replied. This was surreal. "Thank you. Will this become... a normal thing?"

"Conversation between you and me? Goodness, I hope not. This is painfully uncomfortable and I hope never to repeat the experience."

"Fair enough. Now, if you'll excuse me." With that, she turned and walked into the nursery. It wasn't until she set Draco on the changing table did she realize Lucius had followed her. "Um... can I help you?"

"Not really," he said, offering up no further explanation.

Deciding to ignore his presence - it was his home, after all - she went on to strip Draco of his nightshirt and nappy and clean him up. She put a liberal amount of powder on his bum and slipped him into a pair of pants and a cardigan - all under Lucius's watch.

"Am I being evaluated?" Hermione finally asked, sick of being hovered over. Narcissa had clung to her for the entire first two weeks she was there. She'd thought she'd passed their tests, but maybe that wasn't so.

"Not quite."

"Then... is there a reason you're circling me like a vulture?" Hermione asked, too sleepy for tact.

Lucky for her, he seemed amused with her observation, a small quirk at the corner of his mouth. "Honestly? I'm hungover and am delaying meeting Narcissa for breakfast for as long as humanly, and wizardly, possible."

"I was under the impression you lived in a constant state of hangoverdom," Hermione said. She never did know when to shut her mouth.

A small frown obscured Lucius's features for a moment before smoothing out. "There is the rare occurrence of sobriety, somewhere between breakfast and lunch. I try not to make it a habit. Tedious thing, teetotalism is."

Shaking her head a little, Hermione lifted Draco high in the air to give his belly a raspberry, making him giggle like mad. She took him down from the changing table and put him into his big squishy seat by his large wooden block puzzle thing. It was a baby toy of some sort that Hermione didn't totally understand and looked a tad too much like a torture instrument. But Draco liked it well enough, spinning the wood bauble to his delight.

"He rather likes you," Lucius observed.

"I suppose so," Hermione said, folding a bit of Draco's laundry while she was there and sliding it into his drawers. The nursery was huge, with toys everywhere, a very big crib, a rocking horse that was probably the size of a real miniature pony, all green, silver, and dark hues. Absent were the bright blues, yellows, and lime greens of normal babies.

No wonder Draco was such a cranky prat. He was a deprived baby.

"He doesn't care much for me," Lucius said, his hands in his pockets.

"I'm sure he loves you," Hermione said, picking up a couple of toys and putting them in their respective trunks. Although, she wasn't sure if Draco loved his father. In the future he would idolize him, strive to make him proud, but... was there any real love?

Lucius said nothing, only watched on curiously as Hermione straightened up, shutting the trunks and pulled her wild hair back into a knot with the rubberband around her wrist. Previously, he'd thought her plain and uninteresting, but then he'd seen her figure from behind, those decidedly short shorts and her round rear. And as she walked around the room then, all heavy eyelids and bushy hair, he decided that she looked lovely when she was rumpled from sleep.

Lucius had no problem admiring other women. Some other, weaker, softer married men carried a guilt for looking at anyone other than their wife - Lucius was not one of them. Leaning against the wall beside him, he found he couldn't pull his eyes away from the young girl. She was narrow-waisted and had small breasts, but perky and shapely in a very petite way. Her hair was an unruly mess, but he sort of liked it - untamed and uncontrollable.

The floor was almost entirely clean by the time Hermione knew for a fact that she was being stared at. Slowly, she turned to Lucius and quirked an eyebrow at him. He said nothing and it frustrated her further.

"Would you mind taking Draco down to the dining room? I have to get dressed," Hermione asked.

"Why change? I rather like those shorts," he said with a smirk.

Hermione turned slowly towards Lucius, a suspicious look on her face. She saw the gaze he had fixed on the lower half of her body, and then the upper half, and suddenly felt very naked. Her eyes popped open wide in realization.

"Oh my God," she murmured. "Are you coming on to me?"

Lucius's expression turned indignant. "I am a gentleman, and gentlemen do not 'come on to' women. We compliment and court, but never 'come on to'."

Lucius Malfoy could boast about being a gentleman all he wanted, but Hermione was positive gentlemen didn't openly stare at a woman's rump. Suddenly very self-conscious, and feeling a little harassed, Hermione scuttled out of the room, walking backwards while doing so and crossing her arms modestly.

And on the way back to her bedroom, Hermione blushed. Never once in her life had anyone give her those head-to-toe, slow, rakish and appraising looks that you read about in books and saw in films. And somewhere underneath the weird, squirmy feeling, Hermione was oddly... flattered.

...~oOo~...

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	3. The Keeper of the Keys

A/N. I think Lucius Malfoy is sexy. Do I think he's a good man? Definitely not. However, he is sexy. No. Denying. It.

I know I said only Mondays... well, I'm weak and I wanted to update Thursday and make an announcement saying "twice a week we'll update, Thurdays and Mondays" but that didn't happen so... here you go.

I honestly don't know what's happening to my brain.

I'm so happy about the positive feedback this story is getting. Thank you so much for every single review and I hope you continue to R&R! I appreciate every last one of you.

...~oOo~...

Chapter Three: Keeper of the Keys

It was the next day, while Hermione was putting Draco down for a nap and reading him a story that Narcissa walked in, quite loudly with her heels. Hermione suppressed a sigh. Draco had been very close to sleep, but now that the door had opened and his mother was there, it set him back completely. Draco was now wide awake, standing in his crib, looking at his mother expectantly.

"Hello, my love," Narcissa said, lifting Draco from his crib and holding him tightly to her chest. "And hello, Hermione."

"Hello, Narcissa. Anything I can do for you?" Hermione asked, closing the book and putting it back on his shelf.

"Actually, yes. Tonight a cousin of mine, Matilda Rosier, is having a dinner party and we've been invited, you included. It's not the norm, I realize, but the other governesses attend and watch over the children while the ladies chat," Narcissa said. She put a light kiss on her son's cheek, careful not to rub off any of her lipstick, and put him back down in his crib. "So be ready by six. Wear something nice and dress Draco in something green, its enhances his eyes color." She turned and exited without another word.

Until that moment, Hermione had been confident that by isolating herself in Malfoy Manor, she could avoid most of the issues that came with time travel, but now that Nacrissa wanted her at a public party... who knew what kind of people would be there? People Hermione knew from school - their parents, perhaps?

This was a problem, but not one she could avoid. She couldn't afford getting fired. She needed to get back in that library to find the book that sent her there. She was making little progress in finding the keys, but she had already identified the majority of the wards on it and the runes. It was heavy protection, but if she found the keys, then the rest was easy enough to deal with.

...

"Draco, I know you hate it - trust me, I don't like dressing up either - but you're mother is very right. You are positively striking in green," Hermione said to him as she buttoned up his silky soft baby Oxford shirt. Draco was wiggling with an unhappy look on his face, a scowl far too identical to his father's, and smacking at Hermione's hands.

"No hitting," she told him firmly. She finished the last button, straightened the shirt and looked at the frowning Draco. Little black trousers, a lovely green shirt, and a pair of black leather shoes. He was too adorable. "You are one handsome boy," Hermione told him. "It's a good thing you get Sorted into Slytherin, because none of the other House colors do you any justice. Now, come on. Mum and Dad are waiting."

She planned on having him walk down to the foyer with her, but Draco tucked his little arms around her neck and held on tight. How could she say no to that? With a sigh and a smile, Hermione hoisted Draco off the ground, ignoring the fact that it wrinkled his clothes and walked him down through the house and to the foyer.

In front of the door, Lucius was helping his wife into a beautiful coat lined with ermine fur that made her look positively regal. Narcissa was dressed in an ice blue dress that draped elegantly around her neck and had a pretty big opening in the back. She looked like an old-fashioned movie star once she was wrapped in her coat, standing tall in black pumps.

And Lucius, as always, dressed like a prince. Silk shirt, waistcoat, jacket with silver buttons, emerald cuff links, shiny shoes.

Hermione was living with film stars. In that moment, she couldn't even find it in her to hate them - they were too beautiful.

She really needed to get out of this timeline before she started being jealous of a family of Death Eaters.

Alright, it was too late. She was jealous.

"Are you ready?" Narcissa asked, her eyes scaling Hermione's ensemble with doubt.

Hermione looked down. She was wearing a cream colored, empire-waisted, knee-length dress with black ballet flats. She'd pulled her hair back into a chignon and had thought she looked nice... but Narcissa obviously thought she was insufficient and Hermione was starting to agree.

"I can change," Hermione offered slowly.

Narcissa looked like she was about to tell her to do just like that when Lucius said, "Nonsense. You look lovely."

Narcissa pursed her ruby red lips, disagreeing with only a look.

"Thank you," Hermione said, feeling her face get warm.

"Fine," Narcissa said with a sigh. "Let's go. Hermione, fetch Draco's coat from the closet and meet us by the Floo."

Less than ten minutes later, Hermione was in a ballroom full of people she did not know. Which was good for a few reasons. If she didn't know any of them, then the timeline was safe. It also meant no one went out searching for her. Hermione just wasn't in the mood to be sociable.

She kept a close eye on Draco, following him wherever he went, which was often with the other children. It took her a half hour to realize a number of other women were doing the same. Then it hit her - the other nannies. All watching the children.

A woman popped up at Hermione's right, giving her quite a fright.

"I'm Heather," the woman said with a big grin, holding out her hand. "You must be the Malfoys' new governess. We've been so eager to meet you."

"Er... we?" Hermione said, blinking.

"Us, of course," a voice came from behind her. Hermione turned and gave another start. There were now four women surrounding her, all very close, and with different looks on their faces.

Heather was a pretty young girl, maybe a year or two older than Hermione with gorgeous blonde hair, like cornsilk, all curled and pulled into a fancy ponytail. Her eyes were an inviting periwinkle and she wore a sunflower yellow dress.

The woman who spoke behind her jutted out her hand. This woman was likely in her thirties, with chin-length brown hair and laugh-lines. "I'm Dalia," she said. "I'm the Bulstrodes' governess. And this is Theresa, who works for the Crabbes and Gertie, who's been working for the Greengrasses for almost twenty years now."

Theresa looked to be twenty-five with black hair and very tan skin, and Gertie was much older. In her fifties, Hermione would guess, with plenty of grey hair and a round belly. Gertie had that scowling look that people often associated with old nannies.

"And I've just taken up with the Rosiers," Heather added.

"Oh, how nice," Hermione said, unsure of what else to say.

"She won't be with them much longer thought," Theresa said with heavy Spanish accent and a giggle.

Healther frowned. "Don't start that."

"Why not?" Hermione asked. "Why won't you be staying with the Rosiers?"

"Mr. Rosier has a habit of becoming a bit too... friendly with his governesses," Dalia said, shaking her head. "If you know what I mean. And every time, his wife fires the woman the instant she catches wind of it."

Hermione's eyes got big.

"But I'm smarter than that," Heather told Hermione confidently. "Dalia doesn't give me enough credit. Jeremy has flirted with me plenty of times and I barely notice it."

Theresa, Gertie, and Dalia all rolled their eyes and groaned.

"Jeremy? _Jeremy_?" Theresa said, accentuating each syllable. "Since when are you and _Jeremy_ on a first name basis?" It sounded like _base-ees. _

Heather looked perfectly innocent. "He said it was okay if I called him by his first name."

Gertie shook her head then rattled something off in Dutch. Hermione stared at her for a long moment. Huh?

"Gertie is right," Theresa said. "It's not proper! Don't get cozy with him, Heather. You're there to teach his children and that's it. Hermione doesn't call Mr. Malfoy Lucius, right, Hermione?"

Hermione swallowed. How did they know her name? "O-of course not," she said, shaking her head.

Gertie said something else in Dutch and patted Hermione on the head. Hermione took this to mean "smart girl".

"Thank you," Hermione said, though she wasn't sure exactly what she was thanking her for.

And for the rest of the evening, the herd of governesses gossiped like school girls and trailed their charges. It reminded Hermione a lot of sharing a dorm with Lavender and Parvati, so she often tuned them out and kept her focus on Draco... who bit a small, chubby girl about his age.

"Draco!" Hermione said rushing forward, disengaging herself from the tight ring of nannies, and shifting down on her knees next to him. "That is unacceptable! Apologize!"

Draco pursed his lips angrily and huffed through his nose defiantly, glaring right back at Hermione.

"You do not bite," Hermione told him, wagging her finger. "It is inappropriate. Say sorry to her, now." Hermione read somewhere that telling a child that something they did was "bad" was counter-productive and too negative. It suggested "inappropriate" as an acceptable replacement, which became Hermione's favorite phrase when Draco misbehaved.

Draco turned back to the girl with that same frown. Emotionlessly, he grabbed her fat hand - the one he'd bit - and kissed it quickly before turning and running away as fast as he could through the throngs of people. He knocked into one woman's knees, causing her to drop her wine glass, spilling white down the woman's no doubt expensive silk dress.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said as she chased Draco, trying to shoulder her way through them as politely as possible. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," she kept saying while more people scowled and gasped at her pushing through them.

Once she was, thankfully, in a gap between groups of people, Hermione took a deep breath of the air and spun around in a circle, hunting for any sign of Draco. There was none. That was one sneaky little boy.

And so she decided an adult view wasn't good enough. Hermione dropped to her knees, earning a few gasps among the women watching, and resumed her pursuit of Draco on her hands and knees. She was nothing if not dedicated.

And from the floor-view, Hermione saw between the legs of a dozen people to where Draco was making his way under the buffet table. Ah-hah! There the little bugger was.

She made her way, sliding her way on hands and knees, to the tables. Her bare knees hurt on the hard tile, but pushed on. She ducked under the tablecloth. It was darker under the tables, but she spied Draco right away. He was sitting on his bum with the whole bowl of cream puffs in his lap.

"Caught you!" Hermione said victoriously.

Draco looked up at her with wide grey eyes, his cheeks stuffed, lips covered in chocolate, and sticky fingers. Just as she reached out for him, another pairs of hands swooped him out from under the table.

That's... weird.

Hermione lifted the edge of tablecloth and looked up at the culprit.

Lucius Malfoy had his squirming son in his arms and was looking down at her with mild amusement.

Hermione was suddenly very embarrassed. Determined to regain some of her dignity, Hermione sheepishly smiled while slowly getting out from under the table, standing up slowly. She cleared her throat and brushed off her dress.

"I must say, I have never attended a dinner party with entertainment better than your little display just now," he admitted, smirking. His silvery eyes glinted dimly.

Clearing her throat again, Hermione said, "I'm sorry."

"No worries, that hilarious," Lucius said. "Though, I'm afraid my wife will probably disagree. But every man in the room appreciated it, I'm sure."

Hermione narrowed her eyes but held back a laugh. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she snorted and said, "I must have looked ridiculous."

"Yes, you did. Lovely and ridiculous."

Ignoring the fact that he'd once again called her "lovely", Hermione asked cordially, "Are you enjoying the party?"

"Not even a little," he said dryly.

"Oh... I would offer you a cream puff for your troubles, but your son has eaten them all," Hermione said.

Lucius smirked then. "I think I'll be fine with this," he said holding up his glass of scotch. He was surprisingly good at that - balancing his wiggly son on one hip and holding his drink in the other. It was obvious what his priorities were.

"I'll take him if you'd like," she said, holding out her arms.

"No, no, his hands are filthy and I'd hate for him to ruin that dress," Lucius said, his eyes gliding down her body once more. "Especially when I'm looking forward to seeing you wear it again."

"Careful or I'll report you to the Wizard Resources Department," Hermione only half-teased.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "And who might that be?"

"Your wife."

"You're funny, did you know that?" Lucius drawled, setting his son on the floor. Draco instantly took off and Hermione turned to chase him again, but Lucius caught her elbow. "Don't worry about him. There are plenty of wards on this place. He's probably rushing off to his mother as we speak."

"But -"

"Do you realize we've never had a conversation? Let us remedy that," he said, taking a flute of champagne from a waiter's tray as it passed. He handed it to Hermione. "Tell me something about yourself."

Hermione paused and looked around. "Er... Are you sure Draco is okay?"

Lucius pointed across the hall. Draco was already playing with the other kids again. He then motioned, rather imperiously, for her to continue.

"Um... I... like... books," Hermione said. Her heart was hammering. She should not be talking to Lucius. It might affect the timeline, he might compliment her again which made her frazzled, he might give the other nannies reason to gossip about her...

So many reasons to abandon this conversation.

"What sort of books?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"Any sort of books, really," she said with an indelicate shrug. "Fiction, non-fiction, wizard, Muggle, textbook, novel... you name it."

"You know, we have quite an extensive library at the Manor," he said casually, sipping from his glass.

Hermione's heart jumped and she forced her expression to remain neutral. "Oh, really?" she said, trying to sound only mildly interested.

"Oh, yes," Lucius said. "The Malfoys have been collection unique texts since the Middle Ages."

"That sounds fascinating. Perhaps I could... take a look sometime?"

Lucius hesitated. "I'm afraid not. You see, there are very... delicate scrolls and such in there, a long with a few very dangerous books. It wouldn't be safe."

Hermione nodded, but a plan instantly formed in her head. She needed to get in the library. She was almost positive Lucius had the keys. If she could coax Lucius into letting her in the library, then she wouldn't even have to deal with the wards themselves.

All this meant was tolerating Lucius's compliments and forging a... friendship of sorts. It would be difficult for Hermione to remain calm and not stress out over being in the Death Eater's presence, but Lucius seemed all too willing to talk.

Hermione took a sip of the champagne. It tingled in her mouth and she put on a smile. "So... tell me more about the Malfoys..."

Lucius smiled at Hermione's willingness to converse and carried on to tell her all about his lineage, a subject Hermione was sure he'd take to. She nodded at all the appropriate moments, and even got him to talk a bit more about their book collections.

If Hermione could befriend Lucius, she could very well have her ticket into the library in only a month.

Or, at least, that's what she hoped.

...~oOo~...

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	4. Smoke & Mirrors

A/N. So, yes. Here we are - YOU STILL GET YOUR MONDAY UPDATE, YEY! If you love Lucius, raise your right hand. If you think he's a slimy bastard, raise your left hand. If you think he's a slimy bastard and you love him anyway, raise both your hands and yell "WOOOOO!" like you're on a rollercoaster.

I just yelled "WOOOOO!" in case you were wondering. Freaked my roommate out. Tis the woes of loving Lucius Malfoy.

If you've read TLM, you'll notice that something Lucius says about hiding is very familiar - it's just such a Lucius thing to say that I needed to use it again!

Note - a certain little scene in here WAS inspired by a chapter from Jane Eyre. If you've read Jane Eyre, you'll know what I mean - if you haven't, then no biggie.

...~oOo~...

Chapter Four: Smoke & Mirrors

Sundays were Hermione's day off. On Sunday, Narcissa would take Draco out to shop for clothes and be out all day. Hermione sometimes tried to steal away to a book store or get some reading done. Hermione was in the sitting room on the second floor when Lucius waltzed in.

Over the past few days since the dinner party, Lucius would sometimes follow Hermione as she took care of Draco, often rambling and boasting about some fact about Malfoy Manor or purebloods or some such nonsense. His boasting became a comforting hum in the background after a while, like white noise you listen to in order to sleep.

"Good, you aren't doing anything," he said without greeting.

Hermione looked down at her book and the cup of tea she had in her hands and sighed. Okay, so maybe he was right.

"Follow me," he ordered.

Begrudgingly, Hermione put her book and tea on the coffee table and got up. "This is my day off," she reminded him as she trailed behind him. "Which traditionally means I don't have to do anything, you know..."

"You said you enjoyed reading, did you not?" he said.

Nodding, Hermione's heart went thump-thump.

"Well, since the library is extremely dangerous, it struck me that you've never been in my study," he said, approaching a door.

"Er... what does that have to do with anything?" Hermione asked nervously. She was given very explicit directions at the start of her stay there that she was not to enter Lucius's study. For any reason.

"I have an impressive collection of safer, less-delicate books that you are more than free to look at," Lucius said, swinging the door to his study open and walking in. He gestured to a very tall book case. "Look around. I'll get the house-elves to bring us tea."

Three things were happening in Hermione's head at the same time. One of them being a very accusatory feeling towards Lucius, like "I could have been drinking tea already if you hadn't pulled me away." Another part was gazing at his books with longing, brushing her fingers down the bindings gently. The final part of her sequence of thought was admiring his study.

It was a large room with a big, cherry wood desk at one end with a sizable portrait of Abraxas Malfoy behind it. On flanking the desk were shelves - shelves of plaques and books and shiny objects kept in glass cases. A long rug covered the long floor, woven with deep, earthy colors. The walls were beige and lined with portraits of blonde men, blonde women, blonde people...

Were the Malfoys ALWAYS blondes?

Apparently.

Her eyes were drawn to an ornate, opal full-length mirror. That was beside the desk. The only reason why she knew it was an opal mirror at all was that the bottom peeked out of the silk sheet that covered it. Peculiar.

The fireplaces was made of dark stone, a small fire burning inside it. Strangely, it didn't smell like burning wood or expensive men's cologne in the room. It smelt faintly woodsy, but like fresh pine.

The sitting area in front of the fire was made up of a glass coffee table, a black leather sofa, a black leather loveseat, its cushion worn.

A tray of tea and scones appeared on the table spontaneously.

"This is a very nice study," Hermione said, taking it all in.

Lucius shrugged. "It serves its purpose."

Hermione hid a grin. So entitled.

"Does Narcissa have a study?" Hermione asked curiously.

Lucius was stacking and putting away parchments on his desk as Hermione walked around the room. He snorted as he tucked away a file into one of the drawers. "My wife has the rest of the house. Think of this as my sanctuary."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please. As if you aren't king of the castle."

"I'm not," he said simply. "I learned a long time ago that no one tells Narcissa what to do. I admire the commanding presence she possesses and the power she holds over most people, but that doesn't mean I want to suffer the consequences of daring to think I am in charge."

"So you hide away in here?" Hermione said, quirking an eyebrow.

"A Malfoy does not 'hide'," he said with a regal sneer. "We bide our time."

In Hermione's experience, Malfoys were experts at hiding.

"Whatever you say," she mumbled under her breath.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the sofa. "Pour yourself some tea."

Just as Hermione was settling into the sofa, the door of the study blew open, along with a deep, drawling voice, saying, "Lucius, I need to speak to... You have company." It wasn't a question, an observation.

Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head. The visitor's voice had been eerily familiar and now she knew why.

Severus Snape, twenty-two years old by Hermione's count, wasn't much different from her memory of him. Tall, lean, lank black hair, hooked nose, pale skin, and a general air of superiority. He wasn't dawning teaching robes like she expected of him, but a simple tailored white shirt and black trousers, the shirt not tucked in, which Hermione found out-of-character.

"Who is this?" Severus demanded, arching one brow cynically at Lucius. "Have I come at an inconvenient time?"

"Not at all, Severus," Lucius said. "Severus, this is Miss Hermione Granger, Draco's governess."

Forcing herself to stand and walk towards the man who would one day be the most terrifying professor in the history of Hogwarts, Hermione held out her hand. "It's a p-pleasure to meet you."

Severus eyed her hand with distaste, but shook it anyway. "A bit young, aren't you?"

"I'm eighteen, sir."

"Hmm," he hummed, displeased. Severus spun around on Lucius. "This isn't another one of your tricks, is it?"

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Lucius said, playing dumb.

"Lucius..." Severus growled.

Lucius sighed dramatically. "If you must know - no, this wasn't one of my schemes to set you up with a fine young woman. Though I should mention how lucky you would be to have such a maternal and intelligent lady as Hermione. But she's off-limits, so don't even think about it."

"Trust me, I wasn't," Severus said. looking Hermione up and down with a curl of his lip.

Hermione frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

"Now! I do believe our tea is getting cold," Lucius said. "Join us, Severus."

Hermione sighed. All she wanted to so was read in blissful solitude, and now she was stuck having tea with her miserable potions professor and the father of her childhood tormentor. How did these things happen to her?

...~oOo~...

It was dark. The Manor was sleeping, but Hermione was not. That evening, after Draco was long since put to bed and her employers sleeping as well, Hermione crept out of her bedroom and looked left and right down the long corridor for any sign of house-elves. There were none and it was very silent.

She'd found a helpful book in Lucius's library that day. It was the first volume of many on extensive wards and protection. In it was a spell that she thought maybe could open the library for her, or at least allow her to pass through the door. It was risky, but Hermione needed to leave - and fast.

It was a very bad thing, meeting Snape that day. She was careful not to make to much of an impression, hoping to God that he wouldn't remember her in nine or so years when she went to Hogwarts for the first time.

Hermione walked very lightly on her feet. The Manor was heavy with curses and trapdoors to confuse and neutralize marauders. She learned this when she found a trick door when she'd been looking for a towel before she took Draco in for a bath. When she walked through the door, she'd ended up on the other end of the house. Narcissa explained what had happened and Hermione was very careful about what she opened from then on out.

She was in her usual pajama pairing of camisole and shorts with a cotton sleeping robe hanging around her while she padded barefoot. If her memory served, she could take a left and walk a little ways towards the library.

But then she saw a door on the way there and had an eery feeling, then noticed why. From the crack in the bottom of the door billowed smoke. Black smoke, curling out into the hall. Immediately, she thought,_ Fire_! But it didn't smell like burning. It smelt like rotting garbage. She gagged, covered her nose and went to open the door, expecting it to be one of the many empty rooms in the house.

The heady stench of sulfur hit her head-on when she shoved the heavy door open. The doorknob hadn't been hot and neither was the room, but it was filling with that smoke. Hermione looked around frantically, trying to figure out where it'd come from.

And then she saw it wasn't an empty room at all. The bed at the end of the room held the sleeping form of Lucius Malfoy, who was breathing heavily, coughing a little, but still deep asleep.

Once Hermione was deeper inside, she realized why. She felt drowsy and had to blink a few times for everything to clear again. Covering her mouth and nose with her robe, she rushed to Lucius and began calling his name.

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy, wake up!" She shook his shoulder as the smoke around them thickened, smelling more and more of rotten eggs. "LUCIUS!" she shouted finally.

Lucius started, opened his eyes, squinting through the black fog at Hermione. "Wha... what are you -"

"Mr. Malfoy, you have to get out of here," she said, yanking him by his elbow. He was coughing, but followed. His body seemed to be heavy and once she pulled him fully from the room, she slammed the door shut and he fell against it.

Lucius coughed for a long time. Smoky, dry coughs and rubbed at his watery eyes. "Christ," he uttered between hacks. "What... what the fuck was that?"

"I haven't a clue," Hermione said, leaning against the wall and wiping the tears from her own eyes.

"How did you know...?"

"I was walking... down the corridor... I was l-lost and saw the smoke," she fibbed. She felt gross, covered in that sooty filth from whatever was pouring into the room.

Taking deep breaths of clean air, Lucius looked over to Hermione and said slowly, "Thank you. I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything," she said. "It was nothing, really."

It was silent for a long minute.

"I know you're curious," Lucius said, standing up straight and stretching his back. It was the first time Hermione noticed her was wearing barely anything - only a pair of pants, flannel-print, which was strange Hermione thought. "Might as well spit it out."

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione said, keeping her eyes on the ground.

"Why I was sleeping in a guest room and not with Narcissa," he said, dragging a hand down his face.

"It's your business, not mine," Hermione said with a shrug.

"My wife and I haven't shared a bed since Draco was born."

"I said it was none of my business."

"But your eyes deceive," he said with a clever little smirk. "You're a horrid liar and, more than that, a curious one."

"Why would I care, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked, shaking her head.

"I rather thought we were becoming friends."

"We aren't, though," Hermione said firmly. "We are employer and employee. Your sleeping arrangements with your wife have nothing to do with Draco, my duties, or my salary. It's none of my business, and it should stay that way."

There was another pause between them. Hermione wrapped her robe around her belly tighter and crossed her arms.

"We could still be friends," Lucius said. "I need friends right now, you see. As I'm sure you've read in the papers, all of mine are in Azkaban."

Hermione gave an involuntary shudder. Azkaban. Thinking about it made her sick. Just the other day in the Prophet, they were celebrating the one year anniversary of incarcerating Sirius Black. It made her stomach turn.

"You were a Gryffindor, I bet," Lucius said out of nowhere.

Hermione hid a smile. "And why do you say that?"

"You wear your emotions plainly on your face," he said with a smirk. "I always know what you're thinking."

"Do you?" she said doubtfully. Seeing as she hadn't been kicked out or killed for being from the future and a muggle-born, she knew he didn't _always_ know what she was thinking.

"I do," he said confidently. "Like right now you are trying very hard not to draw any attention to the fact I'm practically nude."

Alright, he was right on that count. Hermione was holding her eyes either on the carpet or his forehead or eyes. She'd glimpsed downward once by accident and regretted it. Not that he was ugly, but quite the opposite. He was long and lean, hard muscle prominent from beneath pale white skin. His stomach was flat as a board, but she saw the telltale indentations of abdominal muscle and...

She was looking again. Shite.

Cockily smiling, Lucius said, "Like what you see, do you?"

"You're as naughty as your son," she said, shaking her head. "I feel like I have to keep wagging my finger at you, saying 'Inappropriate!' But you won't stop, of course. Neither of you do."

"You don't have to scold me just because I know I'm fit," he said. "No harm in a bit of confidence."

"The word you're looking for is arrogance," she said, rubbing her nose to cover a smile.

"You're an open book, Hermione -"

"Miss Granger."

"An open book," he repeated, pointedly ignoring her correction. "Your are blushing and smiling, my dear. You are attracted to me and you are trying to hide it with clever quips. There's no shame in attraction, you know. Many women have been in your shoes before."

"So egotistical," Hermione muttered, but really wanted to laugh at it all. He was ridiculous, but a part of her knew he wasn't dead serious about everything he was saying. Something told her that he was ruffling her feathers on purpose.

Lucius Malfoy was actually... teasing her.

This was bizarre.

"You know, you're quite attractive yourself," he told her. "Lovely legs."

"I'll thank you to not look at my legs."

"What would you rather I look at? You're rear? Gladly."

"Inappropriate," she said sternly, wagging her finger at him. "Shame I can't put _you_ in the corner."

"There are other ways to punish me," Lucius mused. "For instance, you could always spank me."

"LUCIUS." Her cheeks burned like mad.

"You can act the shy, prudish governess all you like, but I know, deep down, you enjoy the attention I give you," she said, a low purr to his voice that made Hermione shiver. "You're as attracted to me as I am to you, and sooner or later you won't be able to hide from it."

Hermione clearly detected the cocky, challenging tone his voice took on and it scared her - because if there was one thing Malfoys were, it was ambitious. And they never let go of something once they decided they wanted it.

And the burning look Lucius gave her, after a while, might just be enough to melt her resolve.

...~oOo~...

A/N2. I know there's a lot of questions about the mysterious smoke, but there will be answers, I promise. Just not this chapter :)

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	5. The Looking Glass

A/N. So, I've finally decided. Sunday morning updates and Wednesday night updates. Wednesdays are subject to change, but no matter what, Mondays will be updated.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a friend of mine who passed away last night. Rest easy, Charlie. We all miss you dearly.

...~oOo~...

Chapter Five: The Looking Glass

Hermione still needed the keys, which put her in a predicament. Her strides to open the library were all unsuccessful thus far. In order to get the keys, she needed Lucius's trust - but Lucius wanted far more than friendship and trust, that much was clear.

And there was that constant nagging in the back of her head about the smoke that'd billowed into Lucius's room that night. The next day when he'd been trailing her around, she'd asked if they should investigate the vents or pipes for the source of the smoke, but he'd laughed it off and assured her that it was all taken care of. She'd tried weaseling details from him, but he'd say something a tad inappropriate or flattering and her brain would turn to jelly.

But the smoke had terrified Hermione so much that for the week after the incident, she slept in the rocking chair in Draco's nursery, for fear of it pouring into his room. There was no sign of it again, not a spec. It didn't sit right with Hermione, that was for sure.

It was a sunny Friday when she was playing hide-and-seek with Draco, one of his favorite games. It was definitely a task, with such a large house, but with so many rooms off-limits and when she restricted him to one floor, it was safe enough - for both of them.

"_Dracoooo_," Hermione called out softly. "Where are you?" There was, of course, no answer. The boy was sneaky as a snake and didn't fall for the usual tricks and never giggled or fidgeted in whatever spot he found.

She was on her knees, looking at the world from a toddler's perspective, hunting for available hiding spots.

Then she saw that the door to Lucius's study was cracked open. Standing up, she knocked lightly on the door. "Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Snape?" There was no answer. She eased the door open and found the study empty and the fireplace cold. "Draco, you know you're not supposed to be in here," she said loudly to the room. She sighed. If he was hiding in there, he was going to be in trouble.

First she ducked to look under the sofa and seats. Then she looked under the desk. Those were the obvious places, but looking around, she didn't really see anywhere else that he could hide. It was a pretty open space.

She was about to abandon the study when she saw something shimmer in the corner of her eye on the desk. The Malfoys possessed a lot of shiny objects, but for some reason unknown, this particular shimmer niggled at her thoughts. She was drawn to it. Hermione hesitantly turned back to the desk. Sitting on top of a stack of folders was the shiny object, mostly covered by a silk handkerchief, wrapped in it, but one of the edges peeked out. Opal and glass.

Hermione turned to see the silk-covered mirror on the wall that she'd noticed on her first trip into the study. From the small pieces poking out from their sheaths, Hermione could see that the opal was etched with the same patterns, the glass the same crystal.

With only the tips of her fingers, she removed the red cloth from the object on his desk, only to reveal a hand mirror. It was obviously a part of the same set as the full-length one, a smaller companion if you may. It was beautiful, the frame reflecting different colors as she lifted it, tilted it in the light of the room. The back was plain. Nothing special about it, except for how priceless it must be. But no obvious magical properties.

Then she stared down into her reflection, only something was no quite right. She looked the same, but the image was... dimmer, for some reason. But then, mushrooming up through her reflection was a black fog, that rapidly started swirling in the mirror, filling the crystal.

Hermione gasped and dropped the mirror back to the desk, quickly wrapping it in the silk once more. Whatever she'd done, she hoped it reversed itself by the time Lucius returned to his study.

Then, from across the room, she heard a faint cough. Her head whipped towards it. No one was there. But she knew that little cough. Draco was hiding in there after all.

And she thought she knew where.

She tip-toed across the rug, hoping that he was lulled into a false sense of security. Standing before the fireplace, she took a deep breath. Then she ducked down into the mouth of it, exclaiming, "Boo!"

Draco squealed and giggled as she snatched you from inside of it and dragged him out. "I found you!" she said, tickling his ribs. He was kicking and laughing, and absolutely covered head to toe in soot. "Oh, Draco," she sighed, mourning the treatment of his very expensive clothing. "You're not supposed to be in here in the first place! Your father is going to have to give you a firm talking-to."

"I rather thought firm talking-tos were your job."

Standing in the doorway was Lucius, a bottle of bourbon in one hand, a glass in the other. Apparently the liquor supply in his study was running love.

"You are still his father, you know," Hermione said, setting the filthy Draco on her hip. The smudges of ash were rubbing onto her own clothes, but she didn't mind all that much. "I can't be responsible for all discipline."

"Sure you can," he said. "You're the governess."

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. Lucius had no interest in playing daddy. He just wasn't cut out for being a parent, Hermione knew that already. He'd needed an heir, the end. The whole dynamic of the Malfoy household was based solely of breeding. It was why he married Narcissa and any Draco was born. Purebred stock.

And because of this, Hermione felt a deep sort of pity for Draco. He was born from a loveless marriage and was put in this world just so the name could live on. Narcissa loved him unconditionally, but Lucius just wasn't cut out for this. He treated Draco the way Abraxas treated him, and the cycle would continue on, sadly enough.

She desperately hoped that Draco would get some sense.

"Well, Draco, you're getting a time-out," she said. Draco then frowned deeply, his forehead crinkling in a way that made him look like an old man. "No, no, don't give me that look. You broke a rule."

"There's no harm in letting it go this time," Lucius said, standing at his desk and pouring himself a drink. "It was my fault for leaving it unlocked. Anyway, he's two."

Hermione couldn't believe it. "Do my ears deceive me?" Hermione said theatrically. "Or is Lucius Malfoy going easy on someone?"

"He's a toddler."

"Still. So out of character for you, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius grumbled, "Let's just say I haven't been myself lately." He took a sip from his tumbler and sighed. "What are you two up to today?"

"Hide-and-seek," Hermione said. "But I think we're heading for a bath now."

"Mind if I join?"

"A bath for your son, not me!" Hermione said, her nose scrunching.

"That's unfortunate," Lucius drawled. "I wouldn't mind a bath with a beautiful young woman right now."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione headed for the door. "Then find your wife."

Lucius was shaking her head. "She's simply not good enough now that I've gotten a good look at your legs."

Hermione simply walked out, ignoring the last comment. And the blood didn't fully drain from her cheeks until the tub was full for Draco.

...~oOo~...

_"How is a raven like a writing desk?" Lucius asked, leaning back in a hundred-foot high throne, a top hat sitting atop his head and nothing else, and a pipe hanging from his lips. He looked comically small in the massive chair, but comfortable and gloriously naked. _

_"There's no sense is speaking riddles with no answer," Hermione answered. She sat before the throne in the middle of a very big square. She looked at the square she was in curiously. "Is this the Queen's square?"_

_"Indeed," Lucius said, smoke rising from his pipe as he puffed. His bare legs were crossed as he lounged, not a care in the world. The greyish smoke from his pipe made shapes as they floated, usually little stars and tea cups. "The Queen, as mad as she is, beheaded the entire kingdom until none were left to behead except herself. So the square goes to you."_

_Hermione scowled. "Narcissa isn't mad."_

_"She was. And so are you."_

_"I am not mad!"_

_"You are. As am I. If you weren't mad, you wouldn't be here."_

_Hermione was shaking her head. "This is madness."_

_"Now you're catching on," Lucius replied with a satisfied smile. _

_"So... who are you? The Mad Hatter, Cheshire Cat, or the Caterpillar?" _

_Lucius looked at Hermione like she was he crazy one. "I'm Lucius Malfoy."_

_With a heavy sigh and an eye roll, Hermione muttered, "Of course you are. How do I get home?"_

_"Click your heels three times -"_

_"Wrong story!" Hermione snapped, holding up a hand. "If we're going to have a Wonderland dream, keep with the right plot, alright?"_

_Lucius grinned mischievously. "Fair enough."_

_"Now, be honest. How do I get home?" she repeated._

_"It's very simple, of course. With these." Lucius took of his hat, shoving his hand inside, all the way to his shoulder, and plucked out a pretty silver ring of keys. _

_Hermione's eyes broadened. The keys to the library! Everything she'd been working for!_

_Then, with a lascivious look in his eyes, dropped the keys in his very naked lap. Hermione groaned. Was there no end to his indecency?_

_"Lucius, listen," Hermione said, walking forward. Her feet were bare and the grass as as spongy as cake. She approached the throne slowly, practicing eye contact. "You are a very handsome, very tempting, intelligent, articulate wizard, and if I'm being frank, nothing is sexier to me than a man that can put together a proper sentence. You're successful, confident, organized and you have very good taste in interior design. On paper, you're the ideal mate. But what kind of lady succumbs to a man with a criminal record, a drinking problem, and the Mark of the devil on this arm?"_

_"We're both Marked, though."_

_Hermione's hand instinctively covered the scars on her arm. The ones she'd been covering furiously with glamours and make-up to hide from him. The one that read "mudblood". _

_"You don't know about this," Hermione told the Dream Lucius. "If you did, you'd probably kill me."_

_Lucius shrugged. "Probably."_

_"So, yes. This sexual tension between us... It just isn't going to work out. You're a blood supremacist and I'm a muggle-born. Classic Romeo and Juliet, and I just hate cliches. And that's ignoring the fact you're married and have a child."_

_"You're running out of time to solve the riddle," he informed her, removing the pipe from the corner of his mouth. _

_"You're missing the point of this lecture."_

_"How is a raven like a writing desk?"_

_Hermione huffed loudly. "A raven is nothing like a writing desk! It's nonsense! This whole dream, this whole world, this whole situation is nonsense, and I can't stand it! I get whisked away by a windstorm and dropped into the mysterious land of Randy Lucius Malfoy and I can't leave until I get the stupid keys, and I just... I just can't take it anymore!"_

_"Then give in," Lucius said with a shrug. "You know what you need to do."_

_"Oh, really? And what might that be?" Hermione demanded. _

_"Seduce me, earn my trust, and use your body to get the keys."_

_"I respect myself too much for that."_

_"Well. Then I guess we're stuck then, aren't we, my dear?"_

...~oOo~...

Ugh. Hermione dragged herself into a sitting position and scrubbed at her eyes. What a horrid dream. She raked her hands through her sleep-frizzy curls and scratched her chest, the camisole twisted around her torso enough to completely expose her breasts. She hadn't been so concerned about that until she found the vase of orchids on her bedside table.

Hermione's hands flew to cover her chest, her eyes whipping around the room, looking for a lingering perpetrator. Once she was convinced she was alone, she leaned over to smell the flowers. On the table next to the crystal vase was a scrap of parchment, folded neatly with her name on it. Slowly she opened it and found Lucius's perfect script:

_You are not what one would call a peaceful sleeper. - L_

Hermione snorted despite herself. She'd probably been rolling and twitching because of her dream. She tried to feel violated at having been spied on while she was unawares, but the orchids were so pretty and... well, no one had ever gotten her flowers before.

She blushed and tucked his note into the drawer. Bending her knees up and taking a deep breath, she looked at the clock. She had a good half hour before Draco was due to wake up.

She had too many X's on her calendar. Too many. She was affecting the timeline and any small mistake could tip the future war in Voldemort's favor, especially living under the same roof as one of his right-hand men. Hermione was relatively safe since Lucius believed Voldemort to be dead in this time, but the risks were still too great.

She made a hasty decision. Her subconscious was trying to tell her something while she slept. Wizard dreams weren't the same as Muggle dreams. Her images of Wonderland were trying to communicate with her. They were offering her a solution.

Hermione took a deep breath and straightened her shirt, swinging her legs out of bed. Slipping into her sleeping robe, Hermione left her bedroom and made her way down the corridor she'd walked those weeks before, in the direction of the library. Once she found the door she was certain the smoke had come from, she tested the doorknob gently. It gave. Unlocked.

She held her breath as she opened the door. Slipping into the spare bedroom - Lucius's bedroom - Hermione looked at his sleeping form closely. He was a belly sleeper. Not what she would have guessed, certainly.

Hermione was about to reach out and touch him when she saw was rested on his bedside. The hand mirror, hugged by its red handkerchief. The urge to investigate it further was strong - but she was worried about getting caught up in the mystery that was Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione slowly placed her hand on his shoulder. He did nothing, just continued his light snoring. She then tried touching the back of his head. Nothing. She brushed back his hair and whispered his name. Motionless. For a beat she wondered if he was in a coma.

And then she knew what she had to do. Her face burned and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Mind over matter.

Hermione bent down, brushed his hair away from his face and pressed her lips, ever so lightly, to his. Only then did he rustle. She pulled away in time to see his eyelids fluttering open.

Groggy and confused, he muttered, "Hermione?"

She bit back the correction of her name. "I wanted to thank you personally for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"Did you just... kiss me?" he murmured, still half-asleep.

"I did," she confirmed.

Lucius's face broke into a grin like a sleepily satisfied cat. "Mind if I get another?"

Without answering, and before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned forward and kissed him again. Lucius's hands immediately went to her hair and a low rumble vibrated from his chest. Not quite a groan and not quite a purr. It made Hermione's hands tingle.

Hermione knew that she was standing on the point of no return. And she'd never admit it to anyone... but she kind of liked it.

...~oOo~...

A/N2. Obviously, a lot of Hermione's dream sequence was borrowed from the mad mind of Lewis Carroll.

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	6. The Mistress

A/N. Bum-bum- BUMMMMMMMM (attempt at dramatic music). So Hermione is giving in? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR THE FUTURE?!

There are a lot of questions, I know. But I promise, answers will come.

I looked over this chapter and found it had a lot more dialogue than any of the others. Curiouser and curiouser.

...~oOo~...

Chapter Six: The Mistress

Hermione never thought she'd be standing in this particular section of any bookshop. Where the bindings of book were deep, passionate reds and bubbly, charismatic pinks. Where the titles were all not-so-clever puns. Where women became objects and every ounce of her feminist rants became worthless.

Sex books. Hermione heavily sighed and pressed her forehead to the shelf, her eyes shut. Why was she here? Why was she even doing this?

If she was being honest, she'd admit that her knowledge on the subject was minimal. She knew the dynamics, the technicality of it, but her personal background was... well, it wasn't exactly helpful. The few nights she'd gotten hands-on experience were done in the dark, under the sheets, and uncomfortable both times were uncomfortable and achy.

Hermione huffed. She may as well have been a virgin.

She looked at her watch. She'd already been there for six minutes. If her companion to the bookstore was looking for her already, Hermione definitely didn't want to be caught in this section -

"Hermione! There you are," Heather said with a big smile, her head poking around the corner. "I thought you said you were going to be in the kids' books looking for a new book for Draco? And now you're in the... Oh." Heather gave Hermione a very scandalous look. "The naughty books, eh?"

Blushing, Hermione cleared her throat. "I've been telling myself they're 'how-to' books, thank you, so please do not kill the illusion I've put myself under."

"What are you doing here?" Heather asked, wagging her eyebrows.

"For purely informational purposes..." Hermione mumbled, keeping her eyes firmly forward.

"Is there a man in your life? Is he not satisfied? Or are you not satisfied? Or..." Heather gasped a little. "Are you a _virgin_?"

"No!" Hermione said, too quickly. "I just... my experience is limited."

"Well, they've got some good stuff here, it seems," Heather mused. She reached out for one, a book with no title on the cover or binding. She flipped it open and immediately started giggling.

Hermione took a peek over her shoulder. It was a Kama Sutra... but with moving pictures. "Good God!" Hermione exclaimed, looking away quickly. "I refuse to believe that position is physically possible. Wouldn't the poor girl suffocate?"

Heather giggled some more. "I know for a fact that she would not." She winked. Quite lewdly, in Hermione's opinion.

"Heather!" Hermione shook her head. "I didn't need to know, really."

"Hermione," Heather said, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "These books are only going to give you clinical descriptions and tell you what you want to hear. If you want real, unbiased facts, you can always talk to me."

"You're a bit young, though, aren't you?" Hermione said hesitantly. "To be a fountain of... erotic knowledge."

Heather put on a chagrinned smile. "I was a naughty girl in Hogwarts."

Ack. So she was essentially talked to a Lavender Brown - at least Heather was tolerable, though. Hermione eyed Heather thoughtfully.

"Here, how about this?" Heather said, closing the Kama Sutra and tucking it under her arm. "I am going to buy you this book as a gift. And in return, you can let me live my lifelong dream of being a love guru. Deal?"

"No, no, no! Under no circumstances am I going to let you buy that book for me!"

"Alright, alright. Then I won't buy to book and I can be a love guru. Fair enough." Heather slid the book back onto the shelf and snatched Hermione's hand. "Let's go get some lunch and you can ask me all the questions your virginal little heart desires."

"I'm not a virgin," Hermione mumbled weakly, but allowed herself to be dragged out.

...~oOo~...

"So, who's the lucky man?"

"I told you, there's no one," Hermione lied, stirring a cube of sugar into her tea.

"You're a terrible liar, did you know that?" Heather said with an amused grin.

"So I've been told," she grumbled.

Heather observed Hermione closely for a long minute while they waited for their food the arrive. The Leaky Cauldron was having a busy Sunday, and Hermione was wearing her hair down to hide her face in case she saw anyone she knew.

Then Heather gasped and Hermione almost fell off her chair.

"My Merlin, it's Lucius, isn't it?" Heather hissed, leaning forward, eyes wide as saucers. "You're sleeping with Lucius Malfoy!"

"No!" Hermione said, a bit too loudly.

"You are, you are, you are!"

"No, I'm not," Hermione said firmly, leaning forward herself. She looked around, making sure there was no one listening in. "He... he propositioned me."

Heather's grin reminded Hermione very much of the Cheshire Cat. Any bigger or wider and it would swallow her head. "What did you say?"

"W-well... then I saw the time, and Draco was waking up, so... I had to go take care of Draco," Hermione said quickly.

"You ran away, didn't you?"

"I didn't run... It was more like a hasty jog."

"What happened that made him proposition you, you think?" Heather asked curiously, propping her chin up on her hand.

Hermione's eyes followed the grains of the wooden table as she answered, "It may have something to do with my kissing him."

"You dog!" Heather said gleefully, laughing like mad. Hermione hushed her urgently, but Heather ignored it. "Why'd you kiss him?"

"I don't feel comfortable talking about this," Hermione said. Her face had to be beet red. All she did lately was blush, it felt like, and it was really starting to frustrate her.

"Has Narcissa found out yet?" Heather asked.

"Well, I assume not, considering I'm still working there," Hermione said as if it should be obvious.

Heather's brow furrowed. "You've no clue, do you?"

"No clue about what?"

"About Lucius and Narcissa..." Heather's head tilted curiously. "You really don't?"

Hermione shook her head, not liking where this conversation was going.

"Rumor has it that Narcissa knows all about Lucius's affairs, that they're very open about it," Heather said, finally lowering her voice. "Theresa thinks it gets her all hot and bothered that he goes around with other women but always comes back to her."

For some reason, Hermione was suddenly queasy. "Is that so?"

"It's only a rumor, but... It's a sort of cat-and-mouse they play, I think. He likes seeing her jealous, and she likes the make-up sex," Heather said with a delicate shrug, sipping her tea. "But if you can get some fun out of their sick and twisted marital games, then go for it. I've heard Lucius is _very_ good."

Why did this bother Hermione so much? She was using Lucius - so what did it matter if he was using her in turn? It was a means to an end, and as long as they were both being manipulative, no hurt would come from any of it. But she was still nauseated.

"Well... that's good, I suppose," Hermione said, trying to feign casualty. "As long as I don't lose my job over it."

"You're very lucky, you know," Heather told her with a smile. "Lots of wives would have their governesses' heads for fooling around with their husbands."

...~oOo~...

Heather had, in fact, been very "well versed" in pleasure, locked doors, and bed sheets. She gave Hermione plenty of relaxation techniques, saying that nerves can ruin everything. She told Hermione what to avoid and what to try.

Frankly, Hermione found it all incredibly fascinating, if not the most embarrassing conversation of her young life. And at the very end of the Sunday out, Hermione went to her bedroom to put her new clothes and things away when she found a book in her bags that she most certainly did not buy.

Heather, that sneaky little witch.

Shoving the magical Kama Sutra book into her underwear drawer, deep under her socks and knickers, she shut it and silently cursed Heather's name. How infuriating.

She went about unloading the rest of her things and she found yet another purchase that she did not make. It was in a small, shallow white box. Interesting, she thought, reaching for the lid. Inside were layers of thing paper, and once she pealed those away...

That girl was an absolute menace. She needed to be put in her place.

Never had Hermione seen such revealing attire, even for lingerie. It was a disgracefully short, lacy black neglige with matching knickers that she was sure left nothing to the imagination. Hermione laughed when she saw the last thing in the set, though. Slippers. Fuzzy black slippers with little bows on top. How ridiculous.

She held up the lingerie to the light. Just as she expected. Utterly transparent. Why did people even bother with this stuff? It was the same exact thing as being naked, only way more expensive.

"Is that for me?"

Hermione almost screamed, clutching the delicate fabric to her chest.

Lucius stood in the door way, looking a mixture of amused and... aroused. Of course. Hermione coughed lightly and held the neglige tighter, crumpling it.

"Er..." Hermione uttered, looking for an explanation. But there really was none. "It's... it's a gift. Just a silly gift." She stuffed it rapidly back into its box, closing it quickly.

Lucius's smirk didn't falter. "Well, I'd like to send whoever gave it to you a thank-you note."

Running her hands back through her hair, Hermione bit her lip and stared at the white box. That evil white box.

"You've been avoiding me," he said, stepping into the room and easing the door shut behind him. He looked all the fabulous, wealthy, young heir that he was. Untucked shirt. Pressed trousers. Hair pushed back from continually raking his hands back through it. Shiny, heavy metal ring embedded with emeralds.

"Today is my day off. I went out," Hermione said vaguely. Every nerve in her body was jumping, her muscles clenched tight. The anticipation of this conversation was too much.

She recalled Heather's words from earlier. _"It's just sex, Hermione. People shag every day." _

Hermione wished she could feel the same way. She wished she could be so blasé about this.

Why was it so nerve-wracking?

Hermione's heart went on a ricochet when she felt one of Lucius's long, elegant hands touching her waist. He moving with a slow, fluid grace behind her, using the other hand to move all of her hair over her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck and Hermione shivered. It wasn't even a bad shiver... it felt nice.

His hands were warm and his mouth was soft, trailing kisses around to the side of her neck. Her head tipped to the side of its own accord, her brain slowly detaching itself from her body. Every thought in her head was turning to mush as she found herself intently focused on the movement of Lucius's lips.

This was different than the other morning. The other morning, Lucius had kissed her with a sleepy playfulness, fingers twirling and knotting her hair - much like Draco did when he was getting tired and wanted a nap, actually - before he very formally propositioned her, she pretended to realize the time, made a quick excuse about his son, and ran out.

But now Lucius was kissing her throat with purpose. He nipped gently over the point where her pulse fluttered at hummingbird speed.

"You've yet to give me an answer," he whispered, his voice lower and huskier than she'd ever heard before. It did funny things to her tummy.

His proposition. That's right. He couldn't just ask things like that when her brain wasn't working.

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to remember what speaking was. "Er... yes."

Lucius chuckled lowly and the sound vibrated against her neck. It was a very pleasant feeling. "Are you sure?" he inquired, teasing in his tone.

Numbly, Hermione nodded.

"But I'm warning you," Lucius said, growling sensually. "I'm a demanding man... and I don't share well."

Hermione swallowed and a distinctive heat pooled in her belly. She nodded again.

And that was how Hermione became Lucius Malfoy's mistress.

...~oOo~...

A/N2. So. Lucius is possessive and jealous. Not usually a good combo. What will happen next?

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	7. The Thief

A/N. So, let me make something clear. Lucius is not what one would classify as a "good man" - but in my experience, we as humans rarely are attracted to things that are "good" for us. It sometimes takes years for us to abandon the thirst for adventure and rebellion.

I've realized something. I have put Hermione with Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, and even Bill Weasley. When am I going to pair her with someone actually her age?

Jail bate.

...~oOo~...

Chapter Seven: The Thief

_One of his hands gripped the headboard while the other cradled the back of her neck. He was gloriously naked and had a body that once again reminded Hermione of Greek heroes that statues were modeled after. _

_Her thighs squeezed his hips while she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, but found herself panting. It was... exquisite. The rhythmic movement of Lucius's hips was hypnotizing and coaxed soft moans from her throat. He was whispering to her, his voice raspy and raw, his thumb stroking the underneath of her jaw. _

_One of her hands was curled into his hair, the other clutching his hard, muscled shoulder. Her square nails dug into the skin there._

_Feeling completely possessed, she leaned upward and ran her mouth across his chest, causing him to shudder. Then her mouth trailed up to his throat and his hips slowed, making Hermione whine. Lifting her hips, silently begging him to continue, she wasn't prepared for Lucius's mouth to swoop down onto hers. His tongue commandeered hers and she tightened her hold in his soft blonde hair. _

_..._

Rustling from her sleep, Hermione felt suspiciously sweaty. The dream was so vivid, it was almost like it was...

What was that smell? It wasn't her shampoo, the smell she usually woke up to from her hair strangling her, but... it was a very heavy, musky, smoky smell. Then she breathed inward and tasted it on her tongue. Hermione's eyes flickered open to find the window of her bedroom open, revealing a beautiful sunrise, and a stark naked man standing at her dresser.

Then it all came back in a flood of visions. It hadn't been a dream at all. She'd slept with Lucius Malfoy.

And now he was smoking a cigarette and...

"Are you going through my stuff?" Hermione asked groggily, sitting up and squinting her eyes at him.

Lucius turned around, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Good morning," he said, ignoring her question. Then he held up a book, his eyebrow raised. "Where'd you get this naughty little text?"

Hermione groaned and fell back into her pillow. The Kama Sutra. Of course Lucius Malfoy would go through her knickers drawer. Why hadn't she anticipated this?Hermione yanked up her sheet around her chest and fashioned it into a bad toga.

"You know, it isn't polite to go through other people's things... or to smoke in their room," Hermione said, waving her hand at the fogginess the tobacco left behind.

Lucius shrugged, unashamedly naked. "You don't have a lot of pretty underthings."

"No, I do not," Hermione admitted, standing from her bed and going through her bedside to find a hair tie. She was hoping to mangle her hair into some sort of conformity.

Lucius was staring at her curiously. "You've without a doubt the most impressive sex hair I've seen on a woman," he told her, taking a long dragging and blowing the smoke back out through his nose.

"And how about on a man?" Hermione said, unable to help herself.

"Careful, Hermione, your sense of humor is showing," Lucius said with a smirk. He watched her some more and it was becoming disconcerting.

Slowly nudging past him, grabbing a pair of knickers and a bra from the drawer. Before she pulled away, she plucked the Kama Sutra from his hand and stuffed it back into the drawer where it belonged.

"Just so you know, I dog-eared my favorite pages," Lucius said.

"Good to know," Hermione replied, hopping on one foot while she struggled her way into the panties. She slid them up under the toga, but before she could get them totally up, Lucius reached out and yanked on the fabric of the sheet.

Hermione's toga fell and Lucius smiled. She hurried the panties up her legs and then crossed her arms over her breasts, glaring at him.

"I've seen it all, there's no need to be so shy," Lucius said, a hungry look in his eyes as he scanned the span of her skin.

"Yes, well, unlike you I'm not accustomed to waltzing around in my birthday suit," she said, waving vaguely at his whole body. She was keeping her eyes determinedly locked with his. She was the master of eye-contact. She wouldn't look down unless she told herself to.

Mind over matter, she reminded herself.

"Shhhh..." Lucius murmured, pressing a finger to her lips.

"Don't you 'shush' me!"

"Shhh..."

Hermione listened, trying to figure out what he was hearing to make him shush her, when Lucius gave her a soft, sensual kiss. When he pulled away and Hermione rose and eyebrow, he smirked.

"I liked your voice less when you're complaining and more when its screaming my name," he said.

"I have half a mind to -"

He kissed her again, hands gripping her hips and slowly pushing her back onto the bed. Hermione's fingers and toes began to tingle as he thoroughly kissed her, his thumbs rubbing circles on her skin as his hands slowly dipped lower. Hermione shivered.

And then saw out of the corner of her eye the calendar.

It was Monday.

"I've got to go!" Hermione said, pulling her panties back up to where thy belong and brushing away his wandering hands. "Draco is probably waking up as we speak."

Lucius frowned, but it looked suspiciously like a pout. The resemblance between Lucius and a grumpy baby Draco was suddenly very apparent. Hermione had to stop herself from laughing as she quickly slid into trousers and a sweater.

"This is very disappointing," Lucius sighed.

"I do have a job to do, you know."

"Cold shower, here I come."

"I don't feel bad," Hermione told him, knowing he was fishing for guilt.

"I know you don't, which only makes it worse. Your total disinterest in me isn't doing anything to calm my arousal, strangely enough."

"I'm going now," she warned him.

"Leave me," he said dramatically. "You obviously don't care. I will undoubtedly be experiencing a pain women know not in only a few moments."

Leave it to Lucius Malfoy to make blue-balls sound like a torture device. Shaking her head, Hermione left the room and hurried to Draco's nursery, hoping fervently that she didn't cross Narcissa on the way.

...~oOo~...

All day, Hermione felt... dirty. Like there was a layer of grime coating her skin that she couldn't scrub off no matter how she tried. Especially when Narcissa made her usual noon check-ins. Hermione found herself evading eye-contact and saying the bare minimum, even though - with the information collected from Heather - there was a fair chance Narcissa was already well aware of Hermione's involvement with Lucius.

A fair chance that she was empowered by it, possibly turned on by it, and perfectly okay with it. Which was even more disturbing, in Hermione opinion.

If Hermione was going to be a mistress, she wished she at least had the rights to be secretive and shameful. But, no. She was being forced to be scrutinized by the wife, and forced to have no reason to feel deceitful. There was virtually no lying involved. She was practically doing the sexual part of their marriage a favor.

Then why did Hermione feel so damned awful?

_Maybe because it was so incredible..._ the darker side of her uttered.

Hermione shook that thought off. Even though the experience was Lucius was... very satisfactory... didn't mean she should attach herself. She needed to remain as detached as womanly possible.

_Why is everything so easy for men? _Hermione demanded from any deity who might be listening. It was like their levels of testosterone made it so simple to separate the physical and the emotional exploits of the world. Lucius certainly didn't blush when Hermione walked in the room - but she certainly did when he entered. Lucius's heart didn't stutter. Hermione's did.

During Draco's nap, Hermione banged her forehead against the edge of the crib.

"Tell me, Draco," Hermione whispered, "what about the Y chromosome makes sex so black and white?"

Draco, thumb hanging out of his mouth, had no answer.

"You're right, this is something I should be asking Heather about," Hermione said, nodding. Hermione pocketed the Baby Stone and went to her room to fetch some parchment.

The Baby Stone was a nifty tool that Hermione thought the Muggles should consider adopting. It was like a baby monitor, except it glowed and heated up when the baby was in need of something. The hotter it was, the louder and more urgent the baby was crying. It's counterpart sat next to the crib, sending the message to the one in Hermione's pocket.

Hermione walked into her bedroom and went to her desk. She went into the drawer where she kept extra rolls of parchment and plenty of ink. But when she opened it... all she saw was the bottom of the drawer. It was empty.

Brow furrowed, Hermione reached her hand in. They were invisible, she thought as she touched the wood. They were simply missing, all of her supplies. She went into her other drawer. It was also empty, her crayons and glue and art supplies for Draco.

What was going on?

A weird feeling crept up her spine. Slowly she walked over to her dresser. It couldn't possibly...

Empty. All of them. Most noticeably, perhaps, the absence of the damned sex book.

"Lucius..." Hermione hissed under her breath once it hit her. That infuriating...! She went around her room. Closet: Empty. Hamper: Barren. Stash of Chocolate: Sadly vacant.

He had completely emptied her room! All of her books and clothing were stolen!

Hermione marched out of her room and down the corridors of Malfoy Manor with purpose. She strode right into Lucius's office without knocking or preamble and said, very loudly as she accosted him at his desk, "If you think stealing my very personal things and invading my privacy is sexy, you're wrong!"

Lucius slowly put down the book his was reading, shut it and put it aside. His feet were up on his desk - which drove Hermione mad - and he was leaning back in his chair. "Well, this is a surprise," Lucius said. He bent his head to look around Hermione. "Severus, isn't this a surprise?"

"I'd say it is," the dark-haired man said from his seat across the room from Lucius.

Hermione slowly turned around to find Severus looking at her distastefully.

She cleared her throat lightly, straightened her shirt and said to Lucius, "I still don't feel bad."

Lucius sipped his bourbon and set it back down on the desk. "Well, that isn't very fair, is it?"

"You took all my things," Hermione said simply. "I would like them back."

"I was expecting you to realize their absence much earlier," Lucius observed.

Then it hit Hermione. She glared at him. "You were trying to lure me out."

"I was," he confirmed. "But now I've got company, my dear."

"Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said boldly, "I care for your son. I cannot play your games all day long, be at your beck and call, when my job is to be with Draco. So I'd appreciate it if you returned everything back to my room and not disturb me during the day."

There was a long pause.

"But nighttime is available, right?" he clarified.

Hermione huffed loudly and spun around, striding towards the door. "I don't know where you're keeping my stuff," she said as she walked quickly, "but it better be back to where it was by dinner tonight, or so help me..." She tried to vocalize a suitable threat, but found her mind completely drawing a blank.

"Or what?" Lucius inquired, sounding amused.

"Or... or... or I'll tell your wife on you!" She stomped out, slammed the door, and grumbled to herself. She realized how immature the last comment had been, but frankly he deserved it. Sober Lucius and Drinking Lucius were two different people. Drinking Lucius was, frankly, very mellow and easily amused, but absolutely infuriating. Sober Lucius was quiet, grumpy, but he kept to himself and usually didn't cause any problems.

She was contemplating changing the locks on his liquor cabinet.

...~oOo~...

He always smelt very... clean. And of mint. Fresh mint leaves, though. When Hermione inhaled, it cleared her senses and when she let go of the breath, it was smooth and cooled her throat. And maybe a little eucalyptus.

"What are you doing?" Lucius inquired. He was currently braced over her on the bed, his mouth pressing slow, lazy kisses to her throat. His mouth had paused just then, though.

"Nothing," Hermione whispered, afraid that she couldn't have any control over her voice if she spoke louder. She could feel the tremor threatening to come forth in her voice. Not because she was afraid. No, she'd gotten over her fear of him days ago. She felt the internal trembling because of the anticipation, the knowledge of pleasure to come.

"Were you... smelling me?" he asked, amusement coloring his tone.

"Perhaps," Hermione hedged. She blushed. That was slightly embarrassing.

"There's no shame in it, of course," he assured his, one of his hands caressing the skin under her breast teasingly. She shivered. "I must admit, I find your scent... intoxicating."

"Soap?" she said with a wry smirk.

He shook his head gently. "Ginger. And... tea. A touch of vanilla." He bent down and took a large breath inward and let it out slow, his eyes falling shut.

These were the moments Hermione allowed herself to enjoy thoroughly. When Lucius was sleepy and relaxed, not seeming to care whether their pajamas came unbuttoned or not. The nights spent whispering, sprinkled with contented kissing, and a slow build into something more, or not.

Hermione touched Lucius's face. His eyes opened with the touch.

"Everything about you... has me absolutely transfixed," he murmured, his voice so deliciously low, that Hermione felt it in her bones. "I can barely look away. Knowing your scent, your purring sounds, the softness of your skin... It is getting harder and harder every day to put on the mask."

Hermione smirked. "You barely put on a mask, Lucius. You're quite forward, despite an audience."

"Trust me, my dear, I'm constantly holding myself back," Lucius confessed, his expression somber with no hint of teasing. "From the moment I get dressed, to the mere seconds before your put Draco to bed, I am longing to touch you, hold you, kiss you." He leaned down and brush his mouth lightly over hers. "Do you long for me, the same way I do you?" he asked curiously.

It was strange. Hermione's heart beat like a drum. "Yes," she whispered, and it wasn't a lie.

There was a length of comfortable silence between them.

Then Lucius's hands when to her shorts, he murmured, "Tonight I was planning a bit of snogging and cuddling, but... I think I need you." His words her soft, but had a curious urgency behind them, like his was suddenly a bit desperate.

Hermione's stomach fluttered as Lucius eased her out of her shorts. They pulled the already-open button-up shirt off of her. A week ago, at the very start of their dalliance, she was wildly uncomfortable being naked before his Greek god body, but the way Lucius look at her... it burned away all that insecurity and left desire in its ashes.

...

Sitting up in her bed, Hermione's knees were bent up against her chest, her chin resting on their peaks. Lucius had already fallen off the sleeping cliff and into the ocean of dreams, because behind his closed lids, his eyes fluttered rapidly, and he muttered quietly. One of his hands was curly limply around her ankle. His hair was played across his forehead and dangled in his eyes.

He was quite beautiful, Hermione thought reluctantly. All pale, alabaster tones. Hard muscle. He lay on his stomach, giving Hermione a perfect view of his sculpted back and, embarrassingly enough, red scratch marks on his shoulder blades, courtesy of her.

Biting her lip, Hermione looked at her calendar on her bedside. So many X's. How long could she play this dangerous game with Lucius? A week already passed. When would she be able to gain his trust and be allowed in the library? Or at the very least, how long before she found where he hid the keys?

They weren't in his study. Once when he slept, she broke in and searched it top to bottom. She never touched his mirrors, for fear of what happened last time. But there were no keys being held anywhere.

Reaching into her bedside drawer, Hermione withdrew the journal where she kept Draco's schedule, but had slowly become a diary. Sitting the leather-bound journal on her knees, she took her quill and began to write.

...~oOo~...

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	8. The Ally

A/N. In case any of you weren't aware - THERE WAS AN UPDATE THIS PAST WEDNESDAY. So if you haven't read that yet, make sure you do before this chapter.

Hmm... what to say. This story is coming to an end very soon. This story isn't an adventure or, really, a romance. It's a tale of temptation, lust, duty, and manipulation. I'll be sad to see it go. Just a reminder - this fic IS rated M. So any talk of orgasms and sex is within my rights. If you don't like it then... well, you probably shouldn't be reading rated M fics, now should you?

...~oOo~...

Chapter Eight: The Ally

It was another Sunday. Narcissa was out of the house with Draco while Hermione was trapped between Lucius and his desk. With her bum braced on the edge of the desk and her naked legs curled around Lucius, Hermione held on tight to him, stifling whispers and shouts while he thrust into her, deeply, and with a definite rhythm.

Hermione gasped when Lucius pushed her fully back onto the surface, her shoulders and head crinkling parchment. She knocked over and inkwell, soaking her hair with black ink - something she didn't notice until later. She was far too busy focusing on every movement Lucius made in her. The grind of his hips, the slow withdraw that left her whimpering and the stroke inward that made it hard for her to breathe.

Lucius pinned her wrists to either side of her head then as he bent to kiss her sloppily but thoroughly on the mouth. He then guided her hands to around his head, and murmured sweet nothings that melted into dirty words and hissed expletives. Her hands slid around from his neck to his chest, trailing black ink with her fingers, painting stripes that marred his ivory skin.

The tension built blow in Hermione's stomach, that shaky tingle in her knees and hips, the telltale paralysis that exploded into a glorious release. Hermione gasped, desperate for air, as the same feeling that made her hips jerk and legs shake left stars in her vision.

Lucius shouted his own completion and collapsed atop her, catching himself before he crushed her. Their breath mingled between their lips as they panted and gasped, waiting for the aftershocks to fade.

He kissed her, gently. Just a slide of lips and exchange of sighs.

"Lucius..." Hermione whispered.

"Yes, beautiful?" he asked, burying his hands in her hair.

"You... you look like a zebra..." she said quietly.

Lucius's brow furrowed and his looks downward at the treks of ink down his torso. And he laughed. Hermione was shocked at the sound, but the sound of full, honest, rich laughter filled the study around them.

"And you look like a cow," he chortled.

"I do not -"

"Yes, you do. You've got big black spots, here, here, and here," he chuckled, pointing to his forehead, her arm, and her breast.

"Let me see," she said, wiggling out from under him and standing up. She moved towards the mysterious, sheet-covered mirror on the wall instinctively, but he immediately intercepted her, the laughter forgotten.

"No, no," he said, standing directly between her and the mirror. "You mustn't ever touch this mirror, do you understand?" He was looking at her firmly now, like she was Draco - a child that needed to be directed.

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Hermione crossed her arms. She knew something was up with the mirror, and she was on the edge of finding out just what. "What's wrong with that mirror?"

Lucius cleared his throat. "We Malfoys have never been known for...simple heirlooms. The things of which we pass from generation to generation are much more complicated, and sometimes, dangerous. And that is all you need to know."

"But... I thought you said the dangerous things were in the library - that the things in here were... tamer," Hermione pointed out.

Lucius smirked, raking his hand back through his hair. Hermione wanted to tell him that he'd just streaked his beautiful blonde locks with black ink, but said nothing. "You're quite clever, my dear. But if the situation demanded it, I'd need immediate access to this particular mirror. Now, I've already said too much." He stepped towards her and put each of his hands on her hips, leaving black handprints on her flesh. "Let's go take a bath. I'll be sure to scrub every spot of ink off you."

Within minutes, Hermione was sitting in a steaming, mint green tea scented bath, sitting back between Lucius's legs, leaning into his chest. They'd just settled in, and the air hung with silence. It wasn't uncomfortable silence, but Hermione was thinking. Thinking hard.

Playing house with Lucius was nice, but she needed information.

"Would you like me to wash your back?" Lucius asked lowly in her ear.

She simply nodded and leaned forward. He ran a soapy rag over her back, and it felt like a massage. Hermione stared down into the water, seeing it turn greyish as the ink slowly came off of them. She felt the steam hitting her cheeks. and frizzing her hair even more so in its humidity.

"Lucius?"

"Yes?"

"I'm really very curious," she said slowly. "A few half-answers aren't enough to satisfy me."

His hand only paused for a moment before continuing its scrubbing, in lovely circles. "You are right. It was wrong of me to insult your intelligence by feeding you vague answers that probably only brought on more questions. But you're safer knowing less."

"I'm stronger than you think," Hermione said.

Lucius sighed. "You probably are. Probably stronger than me, as well."

That made Hermione's eyes widen. Never once in her life had she heard Lucius admit to being anything less than the strongest, most powerful, and the best. But... to admit weakness...

Hermione was getting somewhere.

She turned a little in his arms to face him, the water rippling around them. Hermione rested a hand on his chest and looked into those beautiful silvery eyes. She bit her lips and said, "You're the strongest person I know."

This wasn't true at all, and that left a deep guilt in Hermione that surprised her. In her experience, Lucius was weak, a follower, and a coward. He'd lied to the Ministry to escape incarceration after the first war, and following the second, he clung to the fact that he'd abandoned the final battle once Harry Potter was revealed to be alive. He was a master of hiding, of lying, of running for cover.

And it she felt sick thinking it - but it was the truth.

"The mirror..." he said slowly, "isn't a mirror."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Then what is it?"

"It's a doorway," he explained, his own brow creasing as he considered how to explain. "There is good reason why the library is warded the way it is, but some things, dangerous heirlooms, need a more... secure place. Valuable things, poisonous things, and sometimes, in the past, prisoners. The mirror is a doorway to where my ancestors trapped the things beyond even their control. Things that, if the doorway were left open, could escape and destroy anything in their path."

The first thing Hermione thought of was the smoke that devoured Lucius's room, those many nights ago. But the mirror hadn't been in the room, so Hermione dismissed this thought.

"The sheet covering it is bewitched. It keeps everything in the mirror, where it belongs," Lucius finished. One of his hands ran up the back of Hermione's thigh, almost affectionately. "Does that satisfy your curiosity, darling?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "Quite." She leaned up to grace his lips with a kiss. "Thank you for trusting me."

"It goes without saying, of course, that you speak of this to no one," he said causally, not sounding concerned. He obviously trusted Hermione, for reasons she didn't know. Sex was quite the motivator, though. An orgasm went a long way for a man.

"Of course," Hermione said, resting her head on his warm, firm shoulder.

"Now," he whispered. "Let's wash that hair of yours."

...~oOo~...

Hermione stood over Draco's crib the next day during his nap. She didn't know where else to be, even though she knew Draco would sleep for an hour at the very least. It was one of the odd days that Lucius was out, meeting connections rather than luring them to his domain. And Narcissa was having tea in the garden with another socialite that Hermione had never seen before.

Narcissa had so many friends and acquaintances that came and went from the house that Hermione gave up on keeping up. Sometimes if she remembered a name, she'd jot it down in her journal, just to ask about them when she returned to her own timeline. Purely out of curiosity.

At the notion of returning to her post-war world, Hermione was simultaneously anxious and reluctant. She needed to get back to her family and friends - this charade was becoming too much - but she'd started to get used to her lies, used to Malfoy Manor, and used to... well, Lucius.

Rubbing her forehead, Hermione tried to massage the thought right out of her head. Lucius wasn't important. Lucius was an ends to a means. She groaned.

What a nightmare.

"My, my, aren't we... stressed?"

Hermione jumped and spun around. It wasn't Narcissa, and nor was it Lucius. Hermione's eyes got huge when she took in the tall, lean form of a young Severus Snape.

"Oh," Hermione said, a little breathless. It was fear. "Hello, Mr. Snape. Are you looking for Master Lucius or -"

"No, I am not," he said stiffly. "On the contrary, I am looking for you."

She swallowed. This couldn't be good. "Er... what can I help you with?"

Severus was silent for a long time. Long enough to make Hermione shiver in wait, an unpleasant feeling coming over her.

"You do not belong here," he said, each word short and precise. "You know this. I know this. The only ones daft enough not to know this are Lucius and Narcissa."

Hermione tried speaking twice before words decided to come out. "I-I... don't know what you mean."

"Oh, don't play stupid with me," he said snidely, his face pulling into a sneer. "You know more than you let on. And while this would normally mean less than nothing to me, I have a distinct feeling that you know more than you should. So I will give you one chance to confess everything to me... And in return, I will do damage control for whatever your goal may be."

Hermione blinked. She swallowed. She had a small stroke. "H-how... how...?"

"I have a source," Snape said vaguely. "He's nitpicked the two memories I have of you, and everything Lucius has said about you, and decided you are hiding something. I agree. He gave me very direct orders to ally myself with you."

"Dumbledore?"

Snape paused. "So it is true. You know more than I'm comfortable with. Which means I will do whatever it takes to get rid of you."

"You mean assist me," she corrected.

"Same thing," he dismissed.

And so Hermione began to talk.

...

They stood at the mirror in Lucius's study. Snape wore the same severe expression he always did. Hermione was chewing on her lip with anxiety. From what Lucius had said about the contents of the mirror.

"The enchantments of the mirror are very precise," Severus explained sourly. "I remember when Lucius first inherited it. He got himself stuck inside for thirty-six hours."

Hermione tried not to be amused by this. "What do I have to do?"

"Your role is simple," he said. "The bewitched sheet can only be moved from the outside of the mirror. One can enter on their own, but require assistance in exiting. The obvious solution would be to just discard the sheet, but that would make Lucius suspicious, and even worse, any myriad of Dark forces could escape."

"And so I have to be around to remove the sheet."

"Yes, but according the Lucius - and the one glimpse I've had inside - this mirror holds a great many things. A lot to sort through. It will take a while for me to find the keys - if they're in here at all."

"When should I come back to let you out?" Hermione asked, her stomach turning. Something didn't feel right about this.

"In precisely twelve hours," he said, looking at the clock on the wall.

"But... what if something in there harms you?" Hermione asked.

"That's a risk we must take to return you to your timeline," Snape said coldly, like this should be obvious. He reached out to slide the silk sheet to the side, exposing more of the gorgeous opal mirror. It shimmered, glinting different colors in the light.

Then it hit Hermione like a gust of wind, this time metaphorical rather than literal. "Wait," Hermione said, digging into her pocket. She placed the stone in Severus's hand. "Take this."

He rose a dark brow at her in question.

"It's a Baby Stone. It's a monitor to Draco, in case he's distressed our in trouble, its sister stone begins to get very warm. So if there's an emergency while you're in there, I'll know, and can come rescue you immediately," Hermione explained.

Severus looked down at the stone, somewhat skeptically, but gave a curt nod nonetheless. Pocketing the stone, he turned back to the mirror, handed Hermione the bewitched sheet, and tentatively began touching the glass. Though it reflected their images back at them, it was made quite clear from first touch that there was no plane there. Severus's fingers dipped in.

Slowly, cautiously, Severus eased his arm through the mirror. Like water, there were a few rippling rings that spread from his elbow. Giving no backwards glances, Severus then stepped the rest of the way through, effortlessly.

Looking back at Hermione was herself, worried and scared for her professor.

...~oOo~...

A/N2. What do you think is coming up next? Will Severus find the keys? Will he return safely? Tell me what you think!

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	9. The Book

A/N. I know, I know. This chapter is INSANELY late. It was all due to a series of incredibly unfortunate events that began with the death of yet another laptop in my possession. Many of you might remember the Exploding Netbook Episode last summer in the middle of my writing TLM.

Technology hates me, and I can't say I'm very fond of it either lately. I know how to do exactly three things on a computer - how to get to TextEdit, Google, and FFn. And even then I need desktop shortcuts, made by my helpful roommate.

Also, being a mommy has been crazy. Remus is getting bigger every day, which just means he gets hungrier and needier and louder. I can't wait until the kid can eat solid food and walk.

I'm rambling. My deepest apologies. Let's get to the story!

...~oOo~...

"_In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: _

_Ever drifting down the stream... Lingering in the golden gleam... Life, what is it but a dream?_"

― Lewis Carroll, _Through the Looking Glass_

Chapter Nine: The Book

Hermione wasted too much time. She had too much to prepare to waste a moment caught in the throes of passion with Lucius. But she'd wasted many moments doing so and now she needed to make up for lost time.

Lucius was asleep. A small blessing, considering he usually had record-breaking stamina. He was draped across the leather couch, naked for the afghan over his shielding his more intimate parts as the fire crackled.

She looked at the time. Only an hour before she was due to remove the sheet from the enchanted mirror for Snape. Hermione wanted to smack herself. Only sixty minutes to do everything.

Lucius, with his silver tongue and god-like body. She blamed him.

Hermione ran to her bedroom to fetch her things. Her journal, most importantly. She couldn't leave it lying around in the past - that would be disastrous. Sitting at Lucius's desk - something she knew he wouldn't approve of if he were awake - Hermione looked at all her things. She ripped the pages from her journal that contained Draco's schedule and habits, sliding them into en envelope she "borrowed" from the desk.

On the front of the envelope, she scrawled, "Draco's Next Governess". She set it aside. That was the easy part, even though her chest ached. She wanted Draco to be well cared for, but those first days she'd spent recording his every preference and idiosyncrasy, such as his fondness for hair and his dislike towards any stringy vegetable like squash... these things she spent time noticing and learning felt so personal now.

Draco was more than just part of her job. For Merlin's sake, she loved the boy. She didn't believe anyone could take care of him the way she did - with patience and unconditional love. Months she'd focused almost every ounce of her attention on him.

Sure, he still didn't have it in him to call her anything but "Momo", but that nickname meant a lot to her. It was a sign of his efforts to become verbal, and his recognition of her. "Hermione" was difficult enough to say as an adult, and Momo was pretty damned close, especially for a toddler.

Hermione took a deep breath and sealed the envelope with wax so that she wouldn't change her mind and take the entries about Draco with her. The only thing of him she would take is a handprint with finger-paint he made weeks before. It was small and blue.

She shook her head. No time to be sentimental. Time was running out.

Hermione began writing her resignation letter, with a heaviness settling in her stomach while Lucius snored softly across the room.

The sound of a jostling doorknob made Hermione jump, her quill scratching across her letter and ruining the draft. She looked up, her heart stuttering. The door to the study was wiggling, but not opening. Of course, Lucius had locked it before their little rendezvous.

Hermione swallowed. She prayed to God it was a house-elf trying to tidy up. Somehow she sincerely doubted it.

A minute later, the jostling stopped and Hermione felt ill at ease.

The next interruption happened halfway through her new letter.

The Baby Stone, whose sister stone was with Severus Snape inside the mirror, began to burn.

Oh, no. What possibly could have gone wrong?

Dropping her quill and abandoning her letter, Hermione took the few steps over to the mirror, delicately pealing away the sheet. Severus marched right out, looking furious.

"What happened?" she whispered hastily, replacing the sheet right away.

Snape was shaking his head, obviously irritated. "Narcissa. She showed up in the room through one of the other mirrors."

"There are other mirrors to the room?" Hermione asked in bewilderment.

Snape nodded curtly. "They run on a network. That's not the point. Narcissa was looking for the spare key for this study. She's not in the brightest of moods. Can't find her husband, can't find her governess. She suspects the worst."

"But... what did she say about you being in there?"

"After I got the information I needed from her, I tampered a bit with her memories and sent her out, but she did find the key," he spoke very quickly. "The other mirror is on the other side of the Manor, so it will take her a little while to get back here, but you need to get out and hole up somewhere else. If Narcissa finds you and Lucius in here together, you'll be fired and evicted. If you're fired, you won't be able to get back in the house or the library. You won't be able to return to your time."

Hermione was blinking, processing the information as quickly as possible. Her heart was hammering against her ribs painfully.

"W-what do I do? Did you find the key to the library?"

Snape sneered. "No, I did not."

"Where does this leave us?"

"I've no clue." Then he paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. "Actually, no. I may have a plan. Collect only the things you need, shrink them to fit your pockets. Work quickly while I explain."

...

"Lucius! Lucius, wake up!" Hermione said frantically, shaking the blonde man awake.

He rouse from his slumber slowly. "What? What is it, love?" He was groggy and slow. Not good for Hermione's plan. Narcissa would show up any second.

"Narcissa," Hermione said, hoping her panic covered the lies she was about to tell. Maybe they'd make them more convincing, she hoped. "She j-just came by, starting banging on the door, saying that she knew we were in here and that she was going to get the key. Said she was g-going to fire me if I was in here. She just left. We have to go!"

Lucius's brows were furrowed, but he was sitting up quickly. "I slept through that?"

"You were sleeping pretty deeply," Hermione said quickly, handing him his trousers. "Please, we have to get out of here before she comes back with a key. I'd really like to keep my job, Lucius."

"Yes, yes, of course," Lucius said, nodding with understanding. "Come along." Taking her hand, the put out the fireplace with a flick of his wand, and led her hastily out of the study, locking it behind him. "We'll go to my bedroom."

"I-I think she already checked there," Hermione said as they walked fast, but quietly, down the Manor corridors. "My room too."

Lucius uttered an ungentlemanly oath under his breath.

"We should go to a room she can't get into, but it wouldn't entirely surprising if one or both of us was there..." Hermione said, feigning musing. Really she was hinting, trying to edge him in a certain direction.

_Come on, Lucius_, she silently egged. _You know where you have to take me_.

Scratching his scruffy jaw, he hummed. "She has access to keys to most of the rooms."

"Isn't there anywhere in the Manor close by that only you can enter?" Hermione said, biting her lip so hard it broke skin. She sucked on the wound nervously, the copper taste filling her mouth and making her already-nauseas stomach roil.

Lucius looked at her for a long moment and she wondered if maybe she'd been found out.

That was, until he said, "Well, Hermione. You might just be getting your chance to see the Malfoy library after all."

Something inside of Hermione broke out in a hallelujah chorus, but she suppressed the feeling of victory for the moment. Snape would be proud of her if he hadn't condemned himself to hiding in the Malfoy's mirror for an indeterminable amount of time. He told her that following her exit, he would need to do damage control, and right away.

Hermione didn't want to think about what kind of Dark things lingered behind the glass of the mirror, but she was confident that no matter what was there, Snape was more than capable of handling. In all honesty, he was probably at home there.

Lucius, still clasping Hermione's hand, began to half-jog towards the library. It wasn't far, but when Hermione saw the familiar doors, heavily laden with runes and protections, her victory chorus skittered to a halt inside of her.

She was back to the beginning. Entering the library.

Lucius stood right up to the doors, but Hermione in a moment of meekness stayed a step behind him.

From his pocket, Lucius withdrew the silk-wrapped hand mirror. Befuddled, Hermione watched with intense curiosity. For the life of her, she could not understand why he constantly had that rather feminine mirror with him -

Lucius put his hand through the mirror, reaching down to his elbow. Much like how Snape had disappeared through the mirror in the study, only on a smaller scale.

Lucius seemed to feel around inside the invisible space in the same way a woman would hunt through her purse for some specific, something familiar to the touch, something like...

He withdrew a key. The same key Draco had used to open the library for her months before... before she saw him as a baby, that is.

Hermione took closer notice to the key. It was old, a skeleton key, and seemed to hum with barely noticeable energy. It matched the hum of the doors, of the layers and layers of ancient protection spells.

But with a simple click, the doors unlocked and let them in.

It was almost anticlimactic. After months of looking for the key, it'd been in Lucius's possession the entire time. After all of the build up, the effort to enter the impregnable library... there she was. Just stepping in.

Lucius shut the doors behind them. They were very large, solid doors, so they did not close quietly.

"I'll work out some kind of story, fear not. I won't let you lose your job," Lucius said to Hermione, mistaking her obvious anxiety for fretting over Narcissa. He ran his hands soothingly up and down her arms. He still looked a bit sleepy, even after an abrupt wakening and the threat of an angry wife.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw it. The leather-bound tome with gold etchings. It was exactly where she'd dropped it during the windstorm that took her back in time. Right on the floor, among other scattered books, but she'd know it anywhere. It even seemed to call to her, as if it was saying, "It's about time!"

"I like having you hear far too much," he assured her, running his thumb from her earlobe down her jaw.

And this was the next hardest part. Getting the book was easy, figuring out how to make it send her back was questionable, but saying goodbye to Lucius...

She didn't think it would be hard at all. But it was.

Very, very difficult.

Lucius was touching her so gently, so comfortingly. His eyes held no lustful expectations, but instead a sort of affection. Something she never expected to receive from Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione knew Lucius adored her in his own way. And weirdly, she adored him as well, but in a very Gryffindor-esque way. She was invested, attached, feeling a distinct loyalty towards him. The stirrings of these feelings in her chest were dangerous.

Lucius Malfoy was infuriating. He stole her things to lure her out for sex. He marked pages in a Kama Sutra for her to study. But he also like the cuddle, for reasons unknown, and appreciated her. He was an undying gentleman and never failed to make her feel special. Not many put much effort into making her feel like anything other than plain old Hermione Granger.

It wasn't love. That would be insanity. But she was certainly falling, and spending anymore time there would undoubtedly lead her down that road.

Raising up on her tiptoes, Hermione looked Lucius in his silver eyes. He seemed to sense her unease, but said nothing. Images of the Daily Prophet adorned with his image being escorted to Azkaban following the war were bold in her mind.

No turning back now. Hermione would do nothing to change the future. That was never her purpose. The entire trip through time was a massive mistake, one she was about to fix.

Hermione kissed Lucius. A soft, brief, goodbye kiss. It settled all the raging emotions inside of her. It calmed her. Because even though he didn't hear it, she told him everything she needed to through that simple brush of lips.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Lucius asked as Hermione lowered herself onto the bare heels of her feet.

"Not really," Hermione admitted, strolling over to the book. When she looked down at it, the gold runes shimmered at her in the leather. It knew she was there. She bent down slowly and lifted it.

"Hermione," Lucius said sternly, "it's better if you don't touch anything -"

"Don't worry, I know this book well," Hermione told him resignedly.

"Really, it isn't safe, you mustn't -"

But Hermione had already opened the book.

And the first rustles of parchment began. Lucius's head whipped around, watching the movement around him. The windstorm was back with a vengeance.

"Hermione!" he said, face hardened with but concerned. His blonde hair was slashed across his forehead with the oncoming storm. Hermione watched as he tried rushing towards her, one hand outstretched towards her, likely to drag her from the library, away from the danger.

And then he was gone.

The wind continued to rage.

...~oOo~...

Everything was still once more. Hermione was sitting on one of the sofas, deep in thought. She had no clue how long she'd been there, but she wasn't sure how long it would take to be able to move again.

She was back. Of that she was certain. She found a calendar to confirm the date and the clock reported that she was gone for a grand total of three and a half minutes.

She was staring at the book darkly. Why was it so familiarized, so responsive to her touch. Surely over the years other had touched it without such a reaction. Why did it send her back in time?

Hermione wasn't prepared for the sounds of the doors opening the the footfalls of expensive male shoes on woodwork. "Granger, you've been in here for hours, surely you... Granger."

Draco Malfoy stared at her with the same look her always did. Unaffected if not slightly disgusted.

Hermione already missed the baby boy who looked at her like she was his best friend and playmate.

"Granger," he said, somewhat appalled. "Why are you wearing... Are those pajamas?"

Hermione looked down at herself. She was wearing one of Lucius's larger t-shirts and a pair of his boxers.

Unable to stop herself, she broke down laughing.

...~oOo~...

A/N2. There will be one more chapter, like an epilogue, to wrap everything up. Thank you so much for reading, as always! Please review and let me know what you think! If there are any large errors in this chapter, I'm sorry - I was eager to post it and had little time to proof read.

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	10. Epilogue: The Truth

Epilogue: The Truth

Hermione stared at the leather-bound journal. She hadn't examined it closely before, when it was shoving her through time. All she'd ever gotten was a glance at the first page, covered in ink, before the windstorm began.

But now Hermione got the chance to really inspect the book. Draco was off getting them tea. She had plenty of questions for him. She needed to know if it all was an illusion or if it had truly happened.

The gold etchings were the only stunning thing about the book. The binding was fraying from age and the edges were worn. This book was aging, obviously, and was turned through many a time. Hermione ran her hand down the cover.

With her wand, she casted a Finite on it. With the spell, the runes and gold designs all disappeared, seeping into the leather and disappearing. Hermione gave a shudder. She hated the idea of sentient books ever since her Second Year and the episode with Tom Riddle's diary. But she gave the book a practice thunk and nothing happened. She spoke to it and received no response.

If she was lucky, it was now nothing more than an old book.

So she opened the cover slowly, bracing herself for another tumble. Nothing happened. The room around her was still. She took that as a good sign.

And Hermione was shocked to realize exactly what the contents of the book were.

Draco's sleeping, eating, and palying schedules! All in her pen!

Bewildered, Hermione flipped through the pages. The journal – _her_ journal – went from childrearing guide to personal diary, speaking about Lucius fondly and her worries about Narcissa. All of them signed at the bottom with her initial, _H_.

That was when Draco returned, carrying a tray of tea things and setting it on the coffee table in the sitting area of the library.

"Are you going to tell me what happened exactly?" Draco inquired, gesturing at her pajamas and unkempt hair.

"I'm… not entirely sure," Hermione said slowly. Then she held up the book. "Are you familiar with this?"

Tilting his head and examining it, he finally answered, "I am. Mother and Father had a massive screaming match over it some years ago. She found it in his study. Apparently it belonged to my old governess." He shrugged.

"Do you… remember anything about her?" Hermione asked.

He crossed his legs regally, the same way Lucius would. "I was only two or three, I think. But… some things, I guess. I remember her having fluffy, darker hair. But… my mother said she was blonde." He shrugged.

Brow furrowed, Hermione frowned. That didn't make much sense.

"And she used to play hide-and-seek with me, apparently," Draco said with a shrug. "Used to drive Mother mad, Father says. I was always getting into places I wasn't supposed to be."

"What was her name? Your governess?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Heather," Draco said. "Father always called her Heather."

_What? _

"Ruined their marriage," Draco went on with another shrug. "It was bound to happen, but my father said Heather ruined him. In a good way, though. He said that no one could ever compete, not even his own wife."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said, feeling deeply guilty.

"For what? For my parents having a doomed marriage from the start? Their bonding was political, Granger. There was never any lasting feeling there. Malfoy Manor had always been a cold place."

Hermione nodded. This she knew. Even back then, it was a numb, unfeeling place.

"Why so curious about that lousy journal, anyway?" Draco asked, raising a perfectly blonde eyebrow.

Hermione hesitated before saying, "Is there anything else you can tell me about this journal?"

Draco thought for a long moment. "Yes… I think so. Snape came around a few years back asking to see it. Father had no clue why or even how he knew about the journal. They got into quite a row about it. Father was suspicious, Snape was stubborn. Eventually Snape was sent away, but… this might sound crazy, but I'm almost absolutely sure that Snape sneaked into the library somehow that night. I heard footsteps in the hall and I went out to check if Father was pacing the corridors – he did that often – and I saw something black flash around the corner towards the library. But when I checked, no one was there. I don't know, I was only thirteen at the time."

Snape! It all made sense!

Snape had enchanted the book because he knew it would happen! Of course. He said he would do damage control after she left, and so he…

He must have altered the Malfoys' memories. Probably not Draco's – he was only a toddler – but Narcissa and Lucius's, definitely.

Heather. Her fellow governess and friend, Heather. Lucius must have known her from society parties back in the day and thought she'd be a perfect image to replace Hermione's in their heads. After all, Heather was gorgeous and memorable, someone that could very well break up a marriage. The false memory of her would be so overwhelming that the real memories of Hermione wouldn't slip through.

But Draco. He still remembered a brunette governess. Severus must have trusted that he wouldn't remember anything. And this was true. All Draco remembered was hide-and-seek and fluffy brown hair. It was…endearing. It was proof that it hadn't all been a dream and that she did make some kind of mark on the boy she'd cared for.

"Well, thank you for the tea," Hermione said, sitting down her half-empty cup. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"Are you going to explain the jammies or just leave me wondering?" Draco asked, brow raised.

Hermione looked down at herself. "A particularly vengeful book had its way with me," she said dismissively. "You know how these books react to Muggle-borns."

"Indeed, they do. Get out while you still can."

Hermione smirked. "I'll be back tomorrow, though, won't I? I haven't finished."

"Well, perhaps if you're lucky, the next angry book will skip transfiguring your clothes and just take them off all together," Draco said with a mischievous grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you just love that?" She wondered how he'd feel if she dropped the bomb of her time travel on him and went into great detail about how she bathed him and changed his nappies. He'd probably be a humbled puppy dog after that.

"I would, but don't tell my father," Draco said, leading her out of the library.

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"You're a Mu– Muggle-born, remember? He wouldn't appreciate my appreciate for your female form," Draco explained. "Which I do, by the way. Appreciate your form."

"Oh, Draco," Hermione said, half flattered and half perturbed. "I don't think I could appreciate your appreciation."

"And why is that?"

_Because I was your bloody nanny? Because I slept with your father? Because I, apparently, made your parents' marriage worse than it already was? _

"Like you said," Hermione said slowly, "your father wouldn't like it."

_No_, she thought. _Lucius wouldn't like it one bit._

Hermione realized she still had the journal in her hand. "Do you mind if I borrow this?" Hermione asked.

Draco said, "Keep it. Nothing special about it."

Oh, how little he knew.

The End

…~oOo~…

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	11. Bonus Chapter: The Note

Bonus Chapter: The Note

What Hermione found in the back of her journal upon returning home.

_H,_

_I've taken care of it. No one will remember you – they'll remember someone else. I've taken a few liberties with their memories. _

_In the future, I will keep an eye out for you. The younger you, that is. And when I deem the time right, I will enchant this journal. Despite the annoyance it caused for both you and me, your trip through time caused a change in Lucius. A change that is not for the better or worse, but a change that must happen nonetheless. _

_He seems to play more with Draco. I am unsure whether that was your doing or not, but my godson may benefit from a father who pay attention to him. _

_By the time you find this and you return home, I do not know where I'll be. But let's never speak of this. _

_S.S._


	12. Dear Disappointed Readers

Dear Readers,

Those who are hacked off about the ending – I never promised a "happy ending". I think it's pretty happy that she returned at all, frankly. Also, I made it clear that what Lucius and Hermione had wasn't LOVE. It was LUST and they cared for each other, sure, but the story was about Hermione going back in time, coming back, and the end.

Lucius is in Azkaban. Hermione is a teenage girl. She changed Draco's nappies, so nothing is going to happen there. Narcissa doesn't remember her because of Snape's interference and Snape is dead.

This wasn't a complex story with an arching plot. This was a short story about a girl who fixes an accident that happened with some help and affecting history along the way.

NOT EVERYTHING HAS A HEART & FLOWERS & LOTS OF BABIES ENDING, PEOPLE. Not every story I write will end with Hermione pregnant and the man of her dreams by her side. That's not how literature and real life works.

Sincerely,

Theresa


End file.
